


Mea Culpa

by ScarceToBeCounted27 (ScarceToBeCounted)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Good Lucius Malfoy, Lumione - Freeform, Potions, Potions Accident, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22940011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarceToBeCounted/pseuds/ScarceToBeCounted27
Summary: 1998. To atone for his sins and to prove himself to the victorious wizarding world, Lucius Malfoy agrees to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Scorned by nearly every student and despised by the Headmistress, with his family at Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy is alone. After a freak potions accident, Hermione feels dark curiosity toward her teacher, and, eventually, madness unfolds in both their minds. Lumione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 105
Kudos: 116





	1. Penance

**Disclaimer:** _ **Harry Potter**_ **and** _ **The Wizarding World**_ **are the property of J.K. Rowling and associates. I am not profiting from this fanfiction.**

**Author's Note: This story will be a slow-burn Lumione fic with explicit material of all kinds. Beware, ye who enter here.**

_September 1998_

_Hogwarts Express_

"No." Hermione shook her head vehemently as Ginny Weasley stared at her across the compartment.

"Yes," Ginny said, raising her eyebrows. "It's him. It's actually him. McGonagall told Mum and Dad that it was part of the deal he made with the Ministry."

"That isn't possible." Hermione's eyes welled. "How could _he_ , of all people, possibly come to our school and… and try to _teach_ us? It's ridiculous. Absolute nonsense."

"Dad says that the Ministry won't hire him back until he's proven he's on the right side for good," said Ginny. "They forgave him, and his wife and son, because they defected and because she lied for Harry, but this is a penance. Just one term. That's what he's agreed to."

Hermione gulped heavily. "I think I made a mistake coming back to school if Lucius Malfoy will be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Ginny."

"Well… think of it this way. How bad could it really be? I mean, those of us who were at school last year had the Carrows casting Unforgivables, so… at least McGonagall won't let Malfoy do that."

"But Lucius Malfoy is - or at least _was_ \- a Death Eater," Hermione hissed. Ginny nodded and looked out the window at the rain. Hermione shut her eyes and whispered, "So was Severus Snape, I suppose."

"I don't think Lucius Malfoy has much in common with Severus Snape," Ginny said tightly. "Snape turned out to be good in the end. Don't suppose you can say that for Lucius Malfoy."

"Well," Hermione huffed, "at least McGonagall is Headmistress. After all we've all been through, we've got a good strong witch running things, and that's good for all of us, I think."

"Right." Ginny nodded more vigorously then, and then her face darkened. Her eyes welled thickly, and her hands knit together on her lap. "It will be strange. Being back where the battle happened. Where Fred… where he…"

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "It will be strange. It will be difficult. But we'll make it. We always make it, Ginny, don't we?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, her breath catching audibly. "We always make it."

* * *

"Well, Mr Malfoy," said Minerva McGonagall in a prim voice, "I don't think I need to tell you that your presence at this school may not be well-received by many students. They know who you are."

"Who I used to be," Lucius corrected her, pushing one brow up. "Headmistress, didn't Minister Shacklebolt assure you I am devoted to earning my keep in wizarding society?"

" _I_ know who you are," McGonagall mumbled. She narrowed her eyes at him, and her lips twitched. "I know what you did at the Ministry for Magic the night of that horrid battle. I know that you fought here before you defected. You went to Azkaban for him. For Lord Voldemort."

"And then," Lucius said patiently, trying not to sound condescending, "My family and I decided that obeying him was entirely the wrong thing to do."

"Only after it was quite clear he was going to lose," spat McGonagall. She pulled her chair forward, and all the eyes of the dead Headmasters behind her seemed to be glaring at Lucius from their portraits. Lucius' pale grey eyes settled on the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, who stared back knowingly. Draco had been there the night Dumbledore had died. Draco had tried to commit murder but had found himself unable. Draco Malfoy, Lucius' only son, was not built for murder.

"Draco didn't do it," Lucius said softly. "He couldn't."

"We are not here to discuss Draco," said McGonagall. "I know, Lucius Malfoy, what you have spent the last thirty years of doing - the Dark Arts. I know with whom your loyalty lay for decades - the Dark Lord. You are a Dark wizard, Lucius Malfoy, no matter what Kingsley Shacklebolt says of redemption."

"And you," Lucius told her, "are unforgiving. I can hardly blame you. So many were lost here, just months ago. Tragic."

"I'm sure you mourn the loss of your fellow Death Eaters just as much, if not more, than you mourn the students who perished here," trilled McGonagall, but Malfoy shook his head and declared,

"There wasn't an innocent among us. Not even Draco, really. But much innocent blood was shed here. Do not for a moment, Headmistress, think it lost on me that we stand on hallowed ground that has tasted much death."

"There are new ghosts," McGonagall said. "Colin Creevey wanders these corridors, carrying a translucent camera around and speaking of how he just wants to see his brother and parents again."

"Colin Creevey," Lucius said. He raised his eyebrows. "Not familiar with the name."

"Perhaps he would have disgusted you," McGonagall sneered, her lip curling, "being Muggle-born."

Lucius pursed his lips and looked away from McGonagall. "You know I won't have the option of being discriminatory as a teacher."

"That doesn't mean you aren't discriminatory as a wizard, Mr Malfoy," sputtered McGonagall. Her voice went shrill then as she said, "We all know how you feel about Muggle-borns. But I am here to advise you that I will not permit your biases and bigotry here at Hogwarts. You will treat all students equally, regardless of their parentage. Am I well and truly understood, Mr Malfoy?"

"Perfectly understood, Headmistress." Lucius let out a very long sigh and returned his eyes to Dumbledore's portrait. The old man had gone awfully serious in painted form, as if he were nonverbally reiterating what McGonagall had said. Lucius pinched his lips and thought of Narcissa and Draco, home at Malfoy Manor. He thought of the life of luxury he'd given up for a year spent as a Hogwarts teacher, all for the purposes of ingratiating himself back into the world that had won.

It was going to be an awfully long term, he thought, and it started now.

* * *

In the Great Hall, Hermione noticed that there were quite a few more students than there usually were. This was, she supposed, because Muggle-borns had not been allowed at Hogwarts the year before and wanted to finish out their education. She was in the same situation, she reckoned. Harry and Ron had opted to go straight to work at the Ministry and forgo their last year of study, but it was important to Hermione to graduate.

Up at the Head Table, she saw Lucius Malfoy looking profoundly uncomfortable. Horace Slughorn had agreed to stay on as Potions instructor this year. Professor Sprout was there, and Professor Trelawney and Hagrid. Hermione made eye contact with Hagrid, and he nodded deeply at her. She smiled a little at him, feeling weak as she contemplated what had happened in this hall just a few months earlier.

The school had been utterly destroyed in the battle, with rubble everywhere. Many priceless portraits had been destroyed. The courtyards had become killing fields. But somehow, it had all been put back together for the school term. Someone's powerful magic had rectified all the damage from the devastating battle. Hermione looked around the Great Hall and marveled at just how much it looked like the place she'd known and loved for six years, before this had been a scene of carnage.

"Hermione? Erm… Miss Granger?"

Hermione frowned and turned a little to see a seventh-year Gryffindor boy, a lad who was a year younger than Hermione.

"Weston Price, isn't it?" she asked politely. He grinned and said,

"I just wanted to say how brave it was, what you and Weasley and Harry Potter did. Real brave. We couldn't have… none of us would have made it without you."

Hermione felt her cheeks go warm. She cleared her throat and said tightly,

"There were a _lot_ of people responsible for Voldemort's downfall, Weston. Harry and Ron and I were only three of those people. Three players in a very big game, you understand."

"Right. Well. Anyway, thank you." Weston slid back down the bench away from Hermione. Ginny elbowed her a little bit from her side and said,

"Suspect you're going to get a lot of that. Praise and thanks and whatnot. You're a war heroine."

"I'm not," Hermione argued, but Ginny's scarlet brows flew up and she scoffed.

"You absolutely are. You and my brother and Harry. All of you are… well. But as for _him_." She scowled up at the head table and glared at Lucius Malfoy. "I'll never forgive him for what he did to me my first year."

"In all fairness," Hermione huffed, "He was trying to get your father sacked. He didn't know you'd be possessed by Lord Voldemort for a year."

"Are you defending him?" hissed Ginny, and again Hermione's cheeks coloured. She shook her head and insisted,

"N-No. It's just… we all need to make clean, fresh starts, don't you think? I'm not happy about him being here, either, Ginny. Not even a little. But I mean to get good marks in his class, and I trust Kingsley about this. Kingsley sent Lucius Malfoy here to prove his worth. We ought to at least give him a chance."

"That's not what you sounded like on the train," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes. Hermione chomped her lip and said,

"Yes, well. I'm doing my best. We all need to do our best."

"Your attention, please!" burred Professor McGonagall from the podium at the front of the Great Hall. Silence fell among the hundreds of students at the tables. McGonagall's face was serious as she adjusted her pointed hat on her head and called out,

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. We are gathered in this space to begin a new term of school, but also a new era. An era of acceptance and tolerance, and of true education. We have gathered here in an age without Lord Voldemort - an age in which he is really and truly gone. And so we begin anew. We begin again, all of us. But we remember those who died for the freedom of the wizarding world, those who fell for the cause of righteousness. We remember them today and always. Let us begin our ceremony with a moment of silence for those who perished here in May of this year, and in the war preceding."

A heavy hush descended upon the crowd of students and teachers. Heads bowed and hands folded on the table as everyone seemed to remember the faces of the lost. Hermione shut her eyes and thought of who she'd lost in the war. Albus Dumbledore. Nymphadora Tonks. Remus Lupin. Sirius Black. Alastor Moody. Hedwig. Fred Weasley. All the others. She reached for Ginny's hand and squeezed, and Ginny sniffled beside her.

"Thank you," said McGonagall, but her voice sounded tight, as if she were staving off tears of her own. She cleared her throat a bit roughly and then said, "I should like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I realise many of you may have strong feelings about this staffing decision, but know that Minister for Magic Shacklebolt has personally insisted upon this situation. I insist that each of you show your new instructor the respect you would grant anyone else. You will all strive to achieve your very best marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts this term, and you shall work to gain - not lose - points for your House in his class. Please welcome… Mr Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione looked around the Great Hall and realised that no one was clapping. Ordinarily, people would applaud the incoming Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. They never lasted, but that didn't mean they didn't at least receive a welcome from the community. But the Slytherins just glared at him, for he was a defector from the side of Lord Voldemort, and many of the Slytherins had parents in Azkaban. They'd been sentenced for serving Lord Voldemort, and their children weren't about to hoot and holler for the man who had fled Voldemort before the Battle of Hogwarts had even ended.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were silent, too, for the same reason as the Gryffindors. They just didn't trust Lucius Malfoy. How could they? He'd spent years serving Voldemort faithfully, committing egregious acts in Voldemort's name. Now he was a teacher at Hogwarts. The students who had been at the school under the Carrows had had enough of Dark wizards running the place.

Suddenly Hermione realised that Lucius Malfoy was a wizard lost between worlds. He was not a Death Eater anymore, and he'd turned away from Voldemort before any other Dark witches or wizards. But neither was he a true ally of those who had fought against Voldemort for years before The Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione tightened her mouth as she stared up at Malfoy. He looked profoundly uncomfortable for a long moment, and then he finally pushed himself to his feet and bowed his head.

"Headmistress," he said, so quietly that Hermione could barely hear him, "Thank you for the introduction. I look forward to the term."

"He should be in Azkaban," snarled someone from further down the Gryffindor table. Professor McGonagall's face went crimson, and she pointed a finger at the offending student.

"Bruce McKinnon! You be silent! Five points from Gryffindor."

The other Gryffindors groaned in dismay at having started the term at a points deficit. Hermione could have sworn she saw Lucius Malfoy smirk a little as he sat back down, and she flushed angrily. He was amused, she thought, by the idea that the Gryffindors had been punished for speaking out against him. But what was he going to do with the children of his former friends, Hermione wondered?

She supposed she'd find out the next day; Gryffindor and Slytherin had seventh-year Defence Against the Dark Arts as their very first lesson.

The Sorting Hat sang its song and then placed students into Houses. As Head Girl, Hermione made a point of going to each new Gryffindor to shake their hand. After the feast, she led her fellow Gryffindors to their tower and announced at the portrait of the Fat Lady,

" _Resurrection._ "

"Correct," said the Fat Lady, and as she swung slowly open, she said warmly to Hermione, "Welcome back, dear."

"Thanks." Hermione headed into the tower and called out to the first-years who were waiting in the Common Room, "The girls' dormitory is protected by an enchantment that simply won't let boys in, so don't bother trying. Boys, your dormitories are that way. You'll find that your belongings have already been delivered to your rooms."

 _By House-Elves,_ she thought ruefully. She sighed and then said,

"Girls, come with me."

She dropped off the first-year girls at their dormitory and then headed down the corridor to the seventh-year girls' room. She slipped inside and found that the room had Expanded itself to include more beds, for this year there was an abnormal quantity of seventh-years. Hermione was joined by Sophie Roper, a Muggle-born from Hermione's year who hadn't been allowed to attend the previous term. Then there was Ginny Weasley and four other girls who were a year younger than Hermione but had aged into their seventh year. Hermione and Ginny had access to the Prefect's bathroom, but it wasn't always convenient, so as they walked into the dormitory bathroom, they noted with relief that an additional toilet stall and two extra showers had been added.

"So odd to be back," mused Sophie Roper. Hermione turned round and nodded.

"It is bizarre. And… sad. It makes me sad."

Quiet came over the dormitory, as weighty as a boulder, as the girls contemplated what they'd lost and how close everything had come to falling apart.

"Well, girls," Hermione said lightly at last, "Best get some sleep, eh? Tomorrow morning we've got lessons with Mr Malfoy."

"Ugh! Lucius Malfoy teaching at Hogwarts," moaned Ginny Weasley, slapping her forehead. "It's a nightmare. An absolute nightmare."

"Can't be worse than the Carrows," said another of the girls, Miranda Byron. She gave Ginny a grave look and said, "They put me in an empty room with no food or drink for two days because I asked a question in Dark Arts."

"Well, Professor McGonagall won't be allowing anyone to be stuck in rooms without food or water," Hermione promised. "We all know her. She'll keep us safe."

"Even from Lucius Malfoy?" Sophie Roper asked sceptically, and Hermione gave a firm nod.

"Even from Lucius Malfoy."

 **Notes: Believe it or not, this will be a Lumione fic, but it'll take a while to get there. We're** **playing around** **with canon just a little bit** **in order** **to achieve this storyline, but it'll** **mostly** **stay true to the events we know and love. Lucius is just repentant enough in this story to stick to Kingsley's plans for him, but he** ' **s still going to** **be his snarky, sarcastic bastard-of-a Malfoy self. Hermione will still be her brave and intelligent self.**

**Thank you so** **incredibly** **much for reading, and a hundred thousand thank-yous for any reviews.**


	2. Professor

Lucius Malfoy looked around the cramped Defence Against the Dark Arts office. It was a round chamber with stone walls that were bare. Perhaps, he thought, other teachers had decorated the space, but it would seem to Lucius that they had done so with aspirations of staying in their position long-term. He had no intention of being here any longer than he had to be, so he had decided to leave the walls blank. He did, however, reach into his leather briefcase and pull out a photograph framed in silver. He propped it on the desk and sighed, staring at the image of Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco. Slowly, they all gave a little smile, and clouds moved behind them, for the photograph had been taken in the garden of Malfoy Manor.

Happier times, Lucius thought rather bitterly. Draco had been nine or ten when the photograph had been taken. That was back when Lucius and Narcissa believed their days as Death Eaters had been over. Reflecting upon his time serving Voldemort in the First Wizarding War, Lucius had found that he was proud of his work in many ways, but had also come to realise just how foolish it had been. After all, at any moment, his entire family could have been killed, and the reality was that nothing in the world mattered more to Lucius Malfoy than his family.

The Dark Lord had returned, and when the Dark Mark had flushed and stung again, it had taken Lucius a solid three minutes of abject panic before he finally Apparated to the graveyard in Little Hangleton. The Dark Lord had not exactly been pleased with Lucius' conduct over the preceding decade and a half. Then there had come the time when The Dark Lord had asked Lucius for his diary, and Lucius had admitted that it had been destroyed in a foolhardy attempt to discredit Arthur Weasley.

The Dark Lord's rage in that moment had absolutely made Lucius fear for his life. Blasted windows in Malfoy Manor, torn portraits, Blasting Curses that had blown up furniture and chandeliers. And then the Cruciatus Curse, for an hour without ceasing. Lucius had never known such pain, and it had driven him nearly to insanity for weeks afterward. He had never quite fallen back into favour with the Dark Lord after that. The Dark Lord had repaid Lucius' mistake by setting up his Headquarters at Malfoy Manor, utilising every financial and hospitable resource the Malfoys possessed for meetings and lodging.

The Dark Lord had taken (and broken) Lucius' original wand. He'd been left to scramble for a new one, and it had never worked quite as well as the one he'd received as an eleven-year-old. The Dark Lord had demanded that Draco go on a suicide mission to kill Dumbledore. He'd cast the Cruciatus Curse on Lucius again when Draco had taken too long to succeed. All of it combined to inform Lucius at the Battle of Hogwarts that he was on the wrong side. He'd always been on the wrong side.

Narcissa had lied to the Dark Lord's face, risking herself and Lucius and even Draco. She'd said that Harry Potter was dead, when in fact he was living. She'd done it to try and get her son, she'd told Lucius later. She'd done it to save Draco. But Lucius knew the deeper truth. By the time she'd lied to Lord Voldemort, Narcissa Malfoy had lost all her faith in the Dark Lord. She had, really and truly, defected by that moment.

After the war, matters had settled like dust. Kingsley Shacklebolt had almost immediately been named interim Minister for Magic, and the trials of the Death Eaters had begun in earnest. Lucius still vividly remembered his meeting with Shacklebolt in June, when the Minister had suggested a deal.

"We all know you spent years fighting for Lord Voldemort," Shacklebolt had told Lucius in his office. Lucius had curled up a lip but had sat in silence until Shacklebolt had continued, "We also know that you and your family disavowed Voldemort before the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. We know that he mistreated you and your family. It doesn't begin to excuse all the terrible things the Malfoy has done, mind you, but it does matter. It does matter."

And then Shacklebolt had posited that Lucius might prove his worth to wizarding society by serving in a less-than-shiny capacity for a little while. Gone would be his luxury surroundings and his position among Voldemort's elite. If he wanted to show, really and truly, that he was no longer a Death Eater at heart, Lucius Malfoy needed to spend a term teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

Lucius had balked. No; he'd laughed. He'd laughed more uproariously than he'd done in ages, his head flinging back as he cackled with dark amusement. But Shacklebolt hadn't been joking, and it had quickly become clear to Lucius that this was his only real way out. He could avoid Azkaban. He could grant Narcissa the reputation she deserved. He could absolve Draco of his family's stain. He could do all of that by teaching students.

"I am not a teacher," Lucius had warned Shacklebolt. "I know nothing at all of teaching."

"Neither do a good many of the professors at Hogwarts," Shacklebolt had shrugged with a grim smile. "Look at Binns. You can't be worse than Binns."

"You expect me to work alongside Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick?" Lucius had spouted in disbelief. "You honestly think they will grant me the -"

"I expect you to keep your head down, give the students a solid curriculum, grade fairly, and accept that most people in the wizarding world view you with suspicion at best and disdain at worst," Shacklebolt had replied. Lucius had gulped and had realised he hadn't had much of a choice.

On the morning of the first of September, he'd kissed Narcissa goodbye and had wrapped her in his arms in a way he hadn't done for years. He'd embraced her like he loved her. He only sort of loved her; they'd been a strategic match made between scheming parents at the time of their marriage. But he felt great affection for her in the wake of the war. Leaving her now was not an easy task.

"You'll visit," Narcissa had nodded, reassuring herself far more than Lucius. He'd licked his lip and had said coldly,

"I'll come when I can."

"Often," Narcissa had insisted, but Lucius had just shrugged and said,

"I have no idea how frequently I'll be granted any sort of leave from the school, Narcissa. This is penance. Punishment. Contrition and atonement, and, if we are lucky, absolution. I must do as I am bid by McGonagall. You know I haven't got options here."

"It could be so much worse," Narcissa had noted. "They could have put all three of us into Azkaban."

"Well, they did not," Lucius had said, raising his brows and tipping his head. "Though, I confess, a year spent with children at Hogwarts may be just as bad as Azkaban."

Now Lucius stood in his office and stared at the photograph of his family on the desk. He cleared his throat and pulled out some parchments and a textbook from his briefcase. He had seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins in ten minutes' time - the very first lesson he'd be teaching. He was anxious, if he was honest, because he knew all of the students loathed him. The Slytherins hated him because many of them had parents who had suffered the fate Lucius had escaped. The rest could simply be cajoled into hating "Professor Malfoy" by the children of Death Eaters. Peer persuasion was a powerful influence, Lucius knew. Meanwhile, the Gryffindors despised him because they all still viewed him as a Death Eater, as someone who had committed grave acts against _their_ families and friends.

None of them were wrong, Lucius thought. He had no right to demand that Slytherins or Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws view him as anything but a coward who had evaded punishment. Still, it made his stomach churn to think of standing before a group of young people who all probably would have rather he'd received the Dementor's Kiss than the teaching post.

He could hear students filing into the classroom out and down the stairs from the office, and he sighed as he realised it was time to actually teach. He picked up the textbook and his wand and headed out of the office, descending the stairs with a straight back. He tipped his chin up imperiously and adopted the same look of abject confidence he'd worn for many years. His dragon-hide boots clacked a little on the stone floor as he headed toward the desks. The conversations that had bloomed among the present students fell silent, and as more students came into Classroom 3C, they were hush and red-faced. They all took seats, and Lucius surveyed the room.

He recognised a great many of the Slytherin students. There was a Rowle, an Avery, a Mulciber, and a Yaxley. He knew all of their Death Eater relatives well. Yaxley's father had already been administered the Dementor's Kiss for the nature of his crimes. Mulciber's uncle had gone kicking and screaming into Azkaban, screaming in the Wizengamot that a new Dark Lord would rise to take Voldemort's place. Lucius felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked from one Slytherin to another, at the faces of the ones who had been too young to properly serve the Dark Lord but had vigorously supported him. They all glared back, and Lucius just nodded slowly.

The Gryffindors he did not know as well. There were a few Purebloods among them whom Lucius recognised, but for the most part, they were foreign faces. He wondered how many of them were Mudbloods who hadn't been allowed to attend the year before and were back to finish their Hogwarts education. Lucius had enthusiastically backed the idea of banning Muggle-borns from the school under the Carrows' reign, though of course his opinion had hardly mattered seeing as The Dark Lord thought him subhuman by then.

There were two faces among the Gryffindors whose appearance made Lucius' throat go a little dry. Ginevra Weasley, the daughter of Arthur, to whom he had given Tom Riddle's diary in her first year, was here. She had wound up possessed by Lord Voldemort, they'd said, and had been compelled to open the Chamber of Secrets. Lucius felt an odd twinge at the sight of Ginny Weasley. He certainly felt no compunction over what he'd intended to do, which had been to shame Arthur Weasley. Lucius Malfoy had always and would always loathe Arthur Weasley. The two of them had been in school together, and they'd been enemies through both Wizarding Wars. But Lucius had not, in all honesty, intended for a young girl to be possessed into conducting attacks and nearly dying. It hadn't registered at the time how… _wrong_ … it had been. Only after the fall of the Dark Lord had Lucius reflected on what he had done to Ginny Weasley and had begun to feel a sharp sting of regret.

Just the same, he wasn't going to be kind to Ginny Weasley. She was still a Weasley, after all. A Blood-Traitor and a poverty-stricken little thing, one of a horde of Arthur's offspring. Just because Lucius thought badly of the diary incident didn't mean he pitied the girl as a witch.

The other face who gave him great pause was Hermione Granger. Ah, yes. Hermione Granger. The brains behind the trio who had brought down The Dark Lord. They had a long history, Lucius and Hermione. Draco had always been second in academics to Hermione, and the idea of a Mudblood being superior in marks to Draco had always perturbed Lucius immensely. He knew that she'd been deeply affected by the sentencing of the Hippogriff Buckbeak, and Lucius had long suspected that Hermione had had something to do with freeing the creature from Hagrid's hut. He'd seen her at the Quidditch World Cup, and Draco had reported seeing the girl afterward, during the riots.

Just five months earlier, Snatchers had brought Hermione Granger to Malfoy Manor, along with her friends. Lucius and Bellatrix had argued over who would call The Dark Lord to alert him, and then Bellatrix had noticed the Sword of Gryffindor. Bellatrix had tortured Hermione for information, and Lucius had just stood there and watched. He still remembered Hermione Granger's wretched screams as the Cruciatus Curse ripped through her body. He remembered her mewling cry as the word _Mudblood_ was etched into her flesh. Hermione had lied about the sword being a copy, and subsequently Lucius and his family had been punished by Voldemort with Cruciatus Curses of their own. They'd been confined to the manor for some time - even Bellatrix.

So now, looking at Hermione Granger and realising everything that had come to pass between them, Lucius felt nervous energy ripple through his core. She likely despised him more than any other student in this room. She looked up from her notebook and actually met his eyes for a moment, and then she narrowed them and shook her head a little, looking down again. Her cheeks coloured red, and he knew why. Anger. Hatred. She whispered something to Ginny Weasley, who nodded as they pulled out quills and ink.

Lucius cleared his throat loudly and held up his wand hand, glancing imperiously out over the students. They went even more quiet than they'd been, and they all seemed to collectively glare straight at Lucius. He lowered his wand and then aimed it at the chalkboard, nonverbally incanting a _Scriptus_ charm to write, ' _Vampires._ '

"Sir," said a voice from behind Lucius, and he whirled around to see that Hermione Granger had raised her hand. She squared her jaw and said tightly, "We learnt of Vampires under Professor Snape, sir."

"Perhaps," said Lucius quietly, "Severus did not teach you everything I wish for you to know about Vampires. Five points from Gryffindor for the insolence… Miss Granger."

Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide, her face boiling up with rage. Ginny Weasley huffed loudly from beside Hermione, and her hand flung up. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"Professor Snape spent almost two weeks on Vampires. What could you possibly teach us that he didn't?"

"Five more points from Gryffindor," Lucius drawled, "and if you or Miss Granger speaks out of turn again, it'll mean detention. Now, shall we commence our lesson?"

Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were silent for the rest of the lesson, diligently taking notes as Lucius explained the ways Vampires attempted to disguise themselves as witches and wizards in order to lure prey. He was certain Severus wouldn't have taught them much about this, and sure enough, the students seemed enraptured. Lucius drew on memories he had from an encounter with a female Vampire in Paris who had nearly killed him, telling the story whilst subtracting the identities of those involved. By the end of the lesson, when the bell rang, the Slytherins seemed significantly more upbeat than they had when they'd first come into the classroom. Even the Gryffindors murmured to themselves that at least this class might be interesting. Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger packed their rucksacks, and Lucius felt compelled to walk over to their desk and say softly,

"Miss Granger, stay after class."

"I've got Ancient Runes next," Hermione said, and Lucius tipped his head as he told her,

"I'll write you a note. Stay after class."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said through gritted teeth. Ginny Weasley looked very worried, but Lucius rolled his eyes and said sarcastically,

"Yes, Miss Weasley, I'm keeping her here to murder her."

Both girls looked at him like he was mad, and then he realised they had absolutely no assurance of safety around him. They didn't trust him one bit, and they shouldn't. He let out a long sigh and said,

"Good day, Miss Weasley."

Ginny touched Hermione's arm and then headed out of the classroom, leaving Hermione Granger all alone at her desk. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

"Yes, Professor Malfoy?"

"Earlier this year, you were tortured at my home," Lucius noted. Hermione gnawed her lip hard, then suddenly ripped back the sleeve of her uniform and revealed her forearm. There it was, in rivulets of raised white scar tissue. _Mudblood._

"I should like to begin anew, if we might consider the possibility that wars breed significant alterations of the spirit," Lucius said, and Hermione scoffed loudly.

"You want to start fresh by taking points away from me and threatening me with detention… _Professor?_ "

"I realise we got off on the wrong foot, so to speak, but you were attempting to undermine me before what I'm sure you'll agree turned out to be a fascinating lesson on Vampires."

Hermione was silent. Even she would have to admit that Lucius' lecture had been interesting. He coughed into his hand and said,

"I extend an olive branch of my own. You are Muggle-born, and as you know, in the past that has been a reason for my family treating you badly. But those days are past, Miss Granger."

"Oh, you're not hung up on Blood Purity anymore?" Hermione asked sceptically. "Forgive me if I'm just a little hesitant to believe that, Professor Malfoy."

"I didn't say…" Lucius shut his eyes and shook his head. "I merely wish for it to be known that the wartime deeds committed against you are in the past."

"That's not an apology, sir," Hermione protested, her honey-coloured eyes welling a little. Lucius tipped up his chin and admitted,

"No, it's not. I can't apologise for who I was or what I did. It serves no purpose to dwell on the past. I wish to look forward."

"Right. May I go now, Professor?" Hermione asked sharply. Lucius nodded and gestured toward the door.

"Good day, Miss Granger."

"Professor Malfoy," she mumbled in response, standing up and tossing her rucksack over one shoulder. She hustled out of the room, practically running for the door, which she threw open. Once she'd gone, Lucius realised she had been afraid of him, and disgusted by him, and he just stood there with pinched lips.

He was alone, he thought, with enemies still everywhere. Even in Hogwarts robes, the shadows of his past taunted him as vigorously as The Dark Lord had done.

He would never escape any of it, Lucius thought, feeling a swell of hopelessness go through his veins as the next students came filing in.

**Notes: This is definitely a slow-burn Lumione, but I promise we'll get there eventually. For now, they just don't like each other. Next up… Hermione hears from Harry and Ron, whose letter makes her second-guess herself. Hmm…**

**Thank you so very kindly for reading and a huge, huge thanks for reviews.**


	3. Draught of Magnes

Breakfast the next morning was significantly more subdued than it usually was at Hogwarts. Students chatted quietly among themselves, but the conversations were soft and almost hesitant. Everyone, even the first-years, knew what had happened here, and a grim heaviness seemed to have settled over the entire place.

"Pass the porridge, please," said Sophie Roper, who was sitting opposite Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Hermione slid the bowl of porridge over to Sophie, and it skidded on the wooden table as she did. A little bit of porridge slopped out, and Hermione swore under her breath. She pulled out her wand and aimed it at the mess she'd made, muttering,

" _Tergeo._ "

The puddle of porridge was Siphoned up, and Sophie wordlessly took the bowl of food. She ladled some into her own dish, and then a loud squawking sounded from behind Hermione. She whirled round to see a flood of owls descending upon the Great Hall. Brown owls, snowy owls, black owls… all bearing post for the students. Hermione suspected that many people's parents would have already written asking for reassurance that all was well at the school where a battle had transpired just months earlier. Other owls certainly came with copies of the _Daily Prophet_ for students to stay apprised of the fast-moving changes in the Ministry of Magic and with the fallout of Voldemort's demise.

Hermione was surprised when not one, not two, but three owls dropped off parcels where she sat. She raised her brows as she realised she had two letters and a copy of the newspaper. She started with the _Daily Prophet_ , reading,

_ANTONIN DOLOHOV ADMINISTERED THE DEMENtOR'S KISS._

Hermione's stomach suddenly went cold. She gulped as she remembered vividly how, in the Department of Mysteries, Antonin Dolohov had struck her with a slash of purple flame that had sent her crumpling to the ground in a fit of extreme pain. She had probably been bleeding internally from the Curse, and she would never forget the look of unmitigated glee in Dolohov's eye the moment Hermione fell. She loathed him, she thought. She couldn't help but loathe him. He was wicked; he was evil. He deserved the Dementor's Kiss. Didn't he? If anyone did, it was Antonin Dolohov.

"Did you see this?" She elbowed Ginny Weasley and showed her the newspaper. Ginny's eyes went round as saucers and she gazed at Hermione for a moment.

"How do you feel about that?" Ginny asked.

"I dunno. Relieved, I suppose," Hermione sighed. "It doesn't undo what he did to me."

"No, it doesn't," Ginny agreed. "I suppose my brother wrote to you and not me."

"What? Oh." Hermione looked at the two letters that had come in the post. She recognised the handwriting on the outside of each one instantly. One was from Harry, and the other was from Ron. She broke the seal on Harry's letter first, pulling it out and unfolding the parchment.

_Hermione,_ it read, _Auror training is hard, but worth it. I'm looking forward to doing some real field work before they've managed to catch the last of the hiding Death Eaters. I really want to be in on that action. I'm sure you understand why. Hope you're doing well at school. Well, there's no doubt about that. You always do well at school. Anyway, we'll all see each other soon. - Harry_

Hermione tapped the parchment with her fingertips and turned to Ginny, who was reading a letter with pinked cheeks. Hermione smiled in amusement and asked,

"What, is that from Harry?"

"Mmm-hmm," Ginny said softly, quickly folding her letter and insisting, "It's private."

Hermione couldn't help but guffaw then, making Ginny's cheeks darken more than ever. Hermione silenced her laugh and just smiled warmly at Ginny.

"He cares for you. A _lot_ ," Hermione said. "He wants you, I think."

"Well, if his letter's any indication," Ginny whispered, grinning. Hermione nodded and opened her other letter, which was from Ron. She was expecting the same sort of gleeful romantic discovery that Ginny had had from Harry. She was expecting a long diatribe about how much Ron missed her, how it wasn't the same without her about, how he couldn't wait for the holidays to see her. But instead, all the letter said was,

_Hermione, Heard you've got Lucius Malfoy as a 'teacher' this term. That can't be good. Bet you're not having too much fun with him around. Anyway, Auror training is great. See you soon. - Ron._

Hermione's face fell. She sighed heavily and read the brief missive three more times. She and Ron had kissed time and time again over the summer. Was he really going to send _this_ and call it a letter after all that?

"What's wrong? Is something wrong with Ron?" Ginny asked. Hermione pinched her lips, unsure of how to answer that question. She just handed the letter over to Ginny, who read it and then tossed her hands up.

"That's it?" she demanded. "After how the two of you have… that's it? Ronald! I ought to send him a Howler."

"No, Ginny. I'm sure he's just busy," Hermione argued, though that made no sense seeing as Harry had had time to write to both Ginny and Hermione. She shook her head and said, "I'll write back to him tomorrow."

"Hmph," Ginny huffed, turning back to her breakfast. Hermione's eyes trailed up to the Head Table, noticing the distinctive absence of Professor Snape. She thought of how it had turned out he'd been on the right side in the end, and she let out a heavy sigh. She remembered taking Snape's memory in his last moments; the idea of it was seared into her mind as though it had been yesterday. Although, Hermione supposed, it hadn't really been so long ago.

Her eyes then slipped down the line of teachers until she reached Lucius Malfoy, who was quietly eating his breakfast. He looked somewhat gaunt and sallow compared to how Hermione remembered him at the Department of Mysteries or in their second and third years. He'd never looked more alive than when he'd been at the Quidditch World Cup. Now, though, he looked tired and… sad? Was he sad? Did Hermione care whether Lucius Malfoy was sad? He was probably feeling isolated from the world he'd known, she thought. He probably felt awfully alone now that all of his friends had been sent to Azkaban and Lucius had been sent to Hogwarts, away from his wife and son.

But that wasn't Hermione's problem.

She let out a long breath and turned back to her food, eating heartily as she considered just how much had changed.

* * *

"Welcome, seventh-years, to Potions!" cried Horace Slughorn. "Now, I know that many of you have missed a year of study, but, never fear. You'll get the hang of it again in no time at all."

Hermione looked at Ginny and Sophie Roper, and the three of them exchanged serious looks.

"Today," bellowed Slughorn, "We shall be brewing a very specific type of attraction potion, called the Draught of Magnes. It is… yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's arm had flown into the air of its own accord, but now that she'd been called upon, she spoke up and said,

"Excuse me, Professor Slughorn, but aren't love potions terribly unethical?"

"This particular potion," said Slughorn, "is unique in that it is not one-sided. You see…"

He began to pace, tapping his wand with his left fingers as he contemplated,

"The Draught of Magnes is a concoction which must be inhaled by two enemies. Those enemies, having inhaled or ingested the potion, will be quite friendly toward one another. This is, Miss Granger, a peace potion. Not a love potion."

"Oh." Hermione's mouth fell open a little. How had she never heard of this particular draught? Mightn't it be useful in making the wizarding world united again? Couldn't it have uses in the political world, or in -

_No,_ she thought. _It's still unethical to make people feel things against their will._

Just the same, she obeyed Professor Slughorn's directions for brewing the draught, determined to achieve high marks in all her classes. She crushed her African sea salt and boiled it in the Standard Potioning Water, adding seaweed and a dried urchin. Once she had her seascape, she added her Bulbadox Juice and her Lobalug Venom.

"Careful with this stuff," Ginny warned Hermione, gesturing to the Lobalug Venom between them. "Doesn't the Ministry strictly control it?"

"Who knows what the Ministry does anymore?" Sophie Roper huffed. "We haven't had a real Ministry in years."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt is a real Minister," Ginny almost growled. Sophie looked surprised at the strength of Ginny's response but just nodded and added her own ingredients to her potion. Suddenly, the contents of Sophie's cauldron burst into flames, and Sophie screamed and flew backward. Ginny stifled a little laugh, and Hermione raised her eyebrows. Professor Slughorn rushed over to Sophie's desk and put out the fire, shaking his head and tutting,

"You oversaturated your water with salt, Miss Roper. Scour your cauldron and try again for half marks."

Sophie looked distraught, but she nodded and set to work cleaning out her cauldron. Soon enough, Hermione's own potion was finished, and she called Professor Slughorn over to check it. He let out a booming laugh of approval and said,

"Oh, well done, Miss Granger. I see you haven't lost your academic touch in your time away from Hogwarts."

Hermione's stomach churned at that, and she bowed her head, but Slughorn barrelled on,

"I daresay this is a perfectly done Draught of Magnes. You may keep a vial."

"Keep a vial?" Hermione repeated, shocked. Slughorn nodded vigorously.

"One never knows when it might come in handy to make enemies into friends, eh?"

Hermione frowned but nodded. She went to fetch a glass vial, and she dropped potion into it. She Siphoned and Scoured the rest of her cauldron as Ginny got passing marks and Sophie earned half marks. As they were packing up their rucksacks, Ginny asked,

"Who're you going to use it on?"

"I'm not going to use it," Hermione told Ginny. "I still think this stuff is dangerous. And unethical. I don't like it. Making people like someone just because of a potion. What if someone used it on Voldemort and me? How would I feel about that?"

"I suppose you'd like Voldemort," Ginny mused, and then Hermione just smiled a little and rolled her eyes. She shook her head and muttered,

"I've got History of Magic next, which I assume you haven't signed up for this term."

"No, I most certainly have not," Ginny said. "Enjoy Professor Binns."

"Well, at least he's not an enemy," Hermione said. "See you."

"See you," Ginny replied, and they parted ways in the Potions Corridor. Hermione made her way up from the dungeons and was walking down a corridor, turning her vial of Draught of Magnes over and over in her hand. She stared at the lavender-coloured liquid and sighed.

Then, very suddenly, she crashed into something hard. At first, Hermione thought she'd been stupid enough to run straight into a pillar or a wall. But then she dropped everything in her hands and looked up to see Lucius Malfoy in front of her. He'd dropped his papers, too, some of which he'd evidently been reading when he and Hermione had run into each other. They both bent down and started gathering up their respective papers.

And then Hermione noticed it.

The shattered vial of Draught of Magnes, lying in a purple puddle on the ground with little bits of broken glass around it. She gasped, breathing in deeply, and Lucius Malfoy demanded,

"What is that, Miss Granger?"

"It's…" She raised her eyes to him, and suddenly his grey eyes seemed to warm. She shook her head firmly and whipped out her wand, aiming it at the spilled potion. " _Evanesco._ It was my work from Potions class, sir."

"And are you… quite skilled with Potions?" asked Malfoy. Hermione raised a brow as they stood, and she whispered,

"I'm passable."

She felt a sudden compulsion to reach out and touch his chest. Her fingers trailed through the air between them and settled on the front of his black velvet robes. Lucius Malfoy seemed entranced for a half second, and then he grasped Hermione's wrist and tossed it away.

"Do not touch me," he snarled, but then his face softened and he murmured, "I apologise."

Hermione felt a shock rocket through her. He…. he was _sorry_? For _anything?_ She shook her head and said,

"No. It was me. I'm not sure what came over… It's me who's sorry."

"In any case." Malfoy snapped his robes tightly and said almost gently, "On to your next lesson, Miss Granger."

"Yes., sir." She felt numb and empty as he walked away. She stared after him, feeling like a fool, feeling confused, and she finally whispered, "Professor Malfoy."

**Notes: Uh-oh. They're both in trouble now. Will Lucius go to Slughorn to figure out what the potion was and get an antidote? Or will the Draught of Magnes take its full effect? Is Slughorn right that these Peace Potions could be used a lot more liberally in a post-war world, or is Hermione right not to trust it? Hmm.**

**Thanks so much as always for reading and reviewing.**


	4. I Don't Hate You

Lucius Malfoy sat at the Head Table, glancing from left to right at all his fellow teachers. There was Hagrid, who probably wanted Lucius dead after the Hippogriff incident and what had transpired in the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts. There was Professor Sinistra, who had rather ominously informed Lucius the night before that his future looked very different from his past. There was Professor Sprout, who glared at Lucius with daggers in her eyes when she wasn't eating. And then there was McGonagall, who made no secret whatsoever of the way she loathed the Malfoys, Lucius most of all.

He sighed and poked at the yolk of his egg, breaking it and dipping a piece of toast into it. He cleared his throat and ate with the delicate touch of a well-bred wizard, his fingers gripping the toast just so. He didn't make any sort of mess; he never did whilst eating. Then he sipped his pumpkin juice and dabbed at his lips with a cloth napkin. The others, he noticed, were far more crass and coarse in the way they ate. Sprout, for example, shoveled eggs and rashers between her thick lips and chewed with her mouth open. Hagrid ate whole pieces of back bacon in one huge bite. Only Minerva McGonagall showed any manners with her eating; she was almost as careful with her spooned porridge as Lucius was with his own food.

Lucius took another sip of pumpkin juice and considered that he was trapped here. He wasn't welcome in the circles of old Death Eaters, or what was left of them. The ones who had escaped Azkaban sentences were mostly Snatchers and weaklings from the old fold. Not a single high-ranking Death Eater had escaped unscathed outside the Malfoy family, and that was precisely because they were defectors. No one who had fought for Voldemort during the last war would ever show Lucius Malfoy hospitality again. They were his enemies. But he also had enemies - many of them - among the ranks of those who had fought against The Dark Lord. They viewed him with enormous contempt owing to how he had spent the last few decades of his life.

He pulled out the letter he'd received the day earlier, extracting it from the breast pocket of his elaborate velvet robes. He unfolded the letter and read it again, for the fifth time since receiving it.

_Lucius,_

_I know you are all alone. So am I. I miss you terribly already. I know we were parted for a long while when you were imprisoned, but somehow this feels worse. I don't know how I'm meant to rattle round this manor without you. Visit soon._

_Narcissa_

Lucius tucked the letter back away and huffed a breath. He wasn't about to go running home two days into the term. That would make him look like an absolute coward. If Narcissa had been able to stand Lucius' stint in Azkaban, she could surely handle him being away at Hogwarts.

His eyes flicked down toward the tables of students, and for a moment he contemplated that they all hated him, too - Ginevra Weasley and Hermione Granger most of all, he thought. His eyes settled on them at the Gryffindor table, and suddenly he felt his pale brows furrow. He stared at Hermione Granger and felt a strange tug in his chest, an odd sensation he couldn't quite pin down.

She was a Muggle-born. No, wait. A Mudblood. That was the term. A Mudblood. She was… no, that word didn't feel right for her. Not anymore. She had Muggles for parents. She was Muggle-born. Confused, Lucius dabbed at his lips again and thought hard about the Granger girl.

She had fought directly against Lucius at the Department of Mysteries. She had consistently beat Draco in academics. She was haughty and insolent in lessons. And, yet, Lucius didn't mind. Why didn't he mind any of that right now? He coughed a little and thought again of the girl's parentage. So she had a Muggle family. What of it? She was a brilliant witch. She was probably the most intelligent witch of her age. Had anyone ever told her that before? Someone needed to tell her.

He _should_ hate her, a distant, quiet part of his brain informed him. He _should_ loathe everything about her. But he didn't. He simply did not dislike Hermione Granger.

All of a sudden, Lucius thought back to the day before, when he'd crashed into Hermione in the corridor. They'd both been looking at parchments they'd been holding, and they'd run straight into each other. Then Hermione Granger had dropped something, a vial that had shattered. She'd Vanished it, and when they'd stood up, she'd reached out and touched - _touched_ \- Lucius' robes. He pinched his lips and shook his head, thinking something was off. He pushed back his chair and stood, stalking briskly over to where the Potions master was scarfing down a scone.

"Horace," Lucius said in a silver voice, "Might I have a word?"

"Oh! Erm… certainly." Horace Slughorn seemed acutely uncomfortable, but he pushed back his own chair and stood. He walked down from the Head Table with Lucius until they were in the corner of the Great Hall, away from tables and listening ears. Lucius put a knuckle to his lip and cleared his throat, his pomposity echoing in the gesture. Horace Slughorn raised his thick grey brows and asked,

"Yes, Professor Malfoy? How may I help you?"

The disdain in Slughorn's voice was more than evident. Lucius curled his lips up in a smug smile before asking,

"What potion did Hermione Granger leave your class with yesterday, Horace?"

"What potion did she have?" Slughorn's eyes went wide. "Erm… it was a peace potion. She won it, having achieved perfect marks in the lesson."

"A peace potion," Lucius repeated, articulating the words tightly. "Elaborate, if you please."

"Ah. Erm, well, it was Draught of Magnes. It was -"

"You let a seventh-year student walk out of your classroom with a vial of Draught of Magnes?" snarled Lucius. He blinked quickly, panting a little as the realisation hit him like a brick to the face. He shook his head. "You fool. You bleeding fool."

Slughorn bowed his head and whispered, "Am I to assume Miss Granger has utilised the potion?"

"She dropped it in the corridor," growled Lucius. He leaned forward until he hovered over Slughorn, his voice rumbling through his gritted teeth. "She dropped it and we both bent down and inhaled the stupid stuff. So, yes, it got used. Now what, Horace? I certainly hope you've got the antidote brewed and ready."

"Well, erm… no, not exactly," said Slughorn. His cheeks shaded ruby, and he seemed breathless all of a sudden. "I - I don't know that one could purchase a completed antidote. It's so rare, you understand. The Draught of Magnes. And of course, brewing the antidote is completely feasible; it's just that it takes -"

"Six months," seethed Lucius. "Six. Months."

"That's correct," Horace Slughorn nodded. Lucius shook his head violently and glared over to where Hermione Granger sat. But then he felt his face soften as he realised that this wasn't her fault. She hadn't meant to dose him with Draught of Magnes. She hadn't meant to spill the potion or have the two of them breathe it in together. She hadn't meant to do this to him - to make him stop hating her.

"Perhaps it isn't the _worst_ thing in all the world," mused Slughorn in a thoughtful tone. "After all, you and Miss Granger have a terribly painful history. It might be nice, mightn't it, to move forward positively?"

"Move forward positively," Lucius repeated. He shut his eyes and shook his head again. "I want you to begin brewing that antidote immediately. I want it as soon as it's ready. I shall spend the next six months ignoring Hermione Granger if I must, but I won't be bamboozled into liking her."

"Right." Slughorn gnawed his lip and then said softly, "I am… I do… I'm quite sorry about this mess, Lucius."

"Don't be sorry. Be productive," hissed Lucius. "Now get out of my sight; I am enraged by this entire business and liable to Hex you right here in front of -"

"Duly noted, Lucius," Slughorn interrupted, and he turned around and walked up to the Head Table again, leaving Lucius standing in the corner of the Great Hall with clenched fists and a racing heart.

* * *

Lucius' first lesson of the day was seventh-year Slytherins and Gryffindors, which meant he had to see Hermione Granger again. He was absolutely dreading the sight of her, until the moment she walked into the classroom. She stared at him as she tiptoed with Ginevra Weasley, and in that second Lucius knew that Hermione had not told Ginny what had happened with the potion. It was a secret, shared between them and now Horace Slughorn. Lucius gave a little nod to Hermione, whose cheeks flushed scarlet instantly. Most of the students were chatting quietly about the Start-of-Term Ball that McGonagall had organised to raise everyone's spirits. But Hermione sat down beside Ginny Weasley and just stared. Lucius started to feel uncomfortable beneath the weight of her gaze, so he finally said,

"You will be requiring a quill and parchment today, Miss Granger."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said at once, licking her lips and reaching into her rucksack. Her hands visibly shook as she pulled out papers, a quill, and an inkpot. Suddenly Lucius wondered what it must have been like to be raised as a Muggle with conveniences like ballpoint pens and spiral notebooks in whatever school she'd attended before Hogwarts. Certainly, he thought, there were certain aspects of the Magical world that would have made for inconvenient adjustments. Perhaps, he thought, it had felt like going back in time to come to Hogwarts.

Then he realised he had never, not ever in his life, had a thought like that about Muggles - that some things they did were more advanced than their Magical counterparts. He tried to shove away the positive thoughts about Muggles, for they seemed like poison in his mind. But then other thoughts crept in. Her parents - he had seen them before in Diagon Alley. Dentists, Draco had told Lucius. They worked with teeth using instruments. Perhaps they weren't such terrible people, Lucius thought vaguely. Perhaps they weren't the scum of the Earth he'd always presumed every Muggle to be. Perhaps…

_This is madness, Lucius!_ He could hear Narcissa's voice screaming in his head. He had descended into the depths of insanity because of Slughorn's damned potion.

He realised he needed to begin the lesson, so he cleared his throat roughly and waited for silence to descend on the classroom. Most of the students shot him surly looks of distrust and outright contempt. Ginevra Weasley was looking at him with her lip curled and her eyes narrowed, as though he were a puddle of Bubotuber Pus on the ground before her.

But Hermione Granger was gazing at him like he was a sky full of stars. She blinked a few times and folded her hands on the desk, then anxiously reached for her quill and dipped it into ink. She seemed out of breath, like she'd been running a long distance, and Lucius knew why. She'd reached out and touched his robes the day before. The Draught of Magnes had had a literal magnetic effect upon Hermione. She didn't just _not hate_ Lucius right now. She…

She wanted him, didn't she? Lucius sank his teeth into his bottom lip as the horrifying comprehension washed over him. A student, a Muggle-born student who had always been his enemy, _wanted_ him. But that could not be, because she wasn't completely in control of herself. She would never want Lucius Malfoy under normal circumstances. This peace potion had put her into a state of mind she never would have been under if she'd not inhaled the contents of the spilled vial.

"Vampires," Lucius said loudly, his voice trembling, "are the subject of lore precisely because they are so mysterious. They are creatures who mostly keep to themselves, although they are known to form Colonies in the underworlds of cities. For example, in Paris, there is a group of approximately twenty Vampires who share the territory of Paris. They have divided the city up in a similar fashion to the Muggle _arrondissements_ that govern the territory of the city. Each Vampire has his or her own ground in which they may hunt without another encroaching."

Hermione's hand flew up. Lucius sighed but found himself entirely unable to be cross with how obsessively intellectual the girl was. Instead he painted a little smile on his face and said congenially,

"Miss Granger."

She just stared for a half second, then seemed to grasp hold of herself before asking,

"Sir, what happens if a Vampire does intrude on the territory of another? Do they, you know, fight? Are there ever wars between Vampires the way wizards have wars?"

"Good questions, Miss Granger," Lucius said with approval. Hermione grinned, and Ginny gaped at her friend as though Hermione had sprouted three heads. Lucius paced a little and said, "In the world of Vampires, individual disputes are settled with fights to the death. Barbaric, some may say, but it keeps things from escalating into larger conflicts. If someone has an individual problem, that issue is solved individually. Moving on, we can see that some cities, like Rome, lend themselves to the presence of Vampires due to narrow, winding roads and quiet parts of the city. But other cities, such as those in America, are significantly more difficult for Vampires to navigate."

Lucius carried on with his lecture, and Hermione asked three more questions before the lesson had finished. By the time it was over, Lucius was confident that he was beginning to get the hang of teaching. It wasn't so difficult, he thought. Convey information. Ask questions of the students. Answer their questions. Issue exams and essays every now and then. It wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting.

"Miss Granger," he said slickly as the students began to pack up their books, "Stay after class, if you will."  
"Yes, sir." Hermione lowered her eyes, as if she knew exactly what the conversation was going to be about.

"Again?" hissed Ginny Weasley, and Lucius snapped at the girl,

"Have you an opinion on the matter, Miss Weasley?"

"N-No. I mean. No, sir," Ginny said, looking angry. She pursed her lips and whispered to Hermione, "See you at lunch. You can tell me all about it."

"Right." Hermione bit a fingernail nervously as Ginny walked out of the classroom. Once all the students had gone, Lucius stood staring at Hermione and said to her plainly,

"I know."

She immediately understood. Her mouth fell open in horror, and her eyes visibly welled.

"I didn't mean to spill the potion, Professor," Hermione said, and a tear boiled over her eye and trickled down her cheek. "It was an accident."

"I know," Lucius repeated lightly. "It wasn't your fault. It was stupid Horace Slughorn, assigning a potion like that and then allowing a student to make off with it when the antidote takes six months to brew."

"I don't…" Hermione huffed and shook her head. "I just feel terribly. I didn't mean to do it. I've sent letters out from the owlery, just this morning. Asking around at all the potions shops in Britain to see if anyone's got any of the antidote. Even if there's just enough for you to take, sir, it would be -"

"No, I think you're the one who would require the antidote more urgently," Lucius clipped. Hermione's cheeks went quite red then, and she knew she'd given herself away. She coughed a little and said,

"I really am more sorry than I can say, sir. I told Professor Slughorn that it was wrong to use a peace potion, owing to the way it deprives people of their mental autonomy. I did say that I had no intention of using the potion."

"Perhaps it is for the best," Lucius shrugged. "At least for now. You and I have a complicated history. Perhaps it wouldn't be a terrible thing to simplify our future."

"Simplify it, sir?" Hermione repeated, and Lucius tipped his head as he said,

"I no longer hate you. This morning, I tried to hate you, and I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I didn't know why until Slughorn divulged the potion's identity to me. Even then, I could not hate you."

"And do you hate me right now, Professor Malfoy?" Hermione asked. Lucius looked her up and down, examining her wild curls, her wide chestnut eyes, her young form. Why was he looking at her, he wondered? He gulped and shook his head.

"No," he said at last. "I do not hate you right now."

"I don't hate you, either," Hermione said. She was still crying a little, and something compelled Lucius to walk closer to her. He stood just on the other side of her desk and impulsively reached to swipe away a tear with his thumb. He snatched his hand back like he'd been burned and whispered,

"I ought to hate you. Muggle-born. My son's enemy. A combatant who fought against me. And, yet, I find that you are the most intelligent and clever witch I've known in… in a very long time."

Hermione let out a shaking sigh. "I ought to hate you, too, Professor Malfoy. You tried to kill Buckbeak. You gave Ginny the diary. You were so cruel, so hateful. But now I see a wizard who is all alone in the world, who turned his back on wickedness and was met with derision, ridicule, scorn, mockery, and malice. I don't think you deserve it. Not after choosing the right way, even at the last moment like you did. I don't know why I don't hate you. But I don't hate you."

"Well, then," Lucius murmured, " _Hostis amica mea est."_

"The enemy is my friend," Hermione translated. She let out another long breath, this one far steadier than the one before. She nodded and said, "I've got Ancient Runes, sir."

"Right. Best go, or you'll be late," he said softly. He bowed his head and stared at his dragon hide boots, and he listened as Hermione packed up her bag and walked out of the room. She paused near the door and said,

"Goodbye, Professor."

"Have a good day, Miss Granger," said Lucius, flicking his eyes up to hers. She smiled just a little and nodded, and he watched her go.

**Notes: Whew. So, Lucius knows about the potion and they've confronted one another about it. But… six months for an antidote? Way to go, Slughorn. Will Hermione hear back from any of the potions shops with an antidote? And what's this about a Start-of-Term Ball? Hmm…**

**Thank you as always for reading, and a huge, huge thank you for reviews.**


	5. Amica Mea Est

Dear Ron,

Things really aren't as bad as I think we all expected them to be. I've been getting winning marks in Potions, and my essay for Ancient Runes was deemed "perfection." Even Professor Binns' lectures seem better than I remember them being. And, yes, lessons with Professor Malfoy are preceding without trouble. He's actually a surprisingly effective teacher. He gives interesting lectures and actually answers my questions, unlike previous Defence Against the Dark Arts instructors.

So, what do you spend your free time doing now that we aren't hunting Horcruxes? Now that you're free from school, how do you spend your days? I know you've got training, and that must keep you awfully busy, but I do hope you're enjoying yourself some of the time. I do miss you, Ron. I wish you were here; McGonagall's organised a Start-of-Term Ball, and it would be nice to dance with you for once in the Great Hall.

Wishing you nothing but happiness,

Hermione

Hermione,

I find it really difficult to believe that any lesson with Lucius Malfoy would be tolerable, much less that he'd be a good teacher. And why are you calling him 'Professor Malfoy'? Has the ruddy bastard gotten into your head somehow?

Anyway, you asked what I do for fun. Harry and I spend loads of time in the Leaky Cauldron after training. It's fun to get more than a little pissed every now and then. Glad you're doing well.

Ron

Hermione stared at the letter where she sat at the Gryffindor table and felt her eyes well a little. Ron hadn't even mentioned the Start-of-Term Ball. His letter seemed to have come from a friend, not a boyfriend. Perhaps, she considered, they weren't as close as she'd thought they were. They'd spent their adolescence as thick as thieves, but now it seemed like he was distracted, like the distance between him and Hermione was putting a strain on what they'd had.

She remembered kissing him over the summer, Apparating to the Burrow and snogging in the deep grass beyond the house. She remembered him coming to her parents' house to visit, the way they'd gone up to her room whilst her mother flashed her a knowing smirk. They'd cuddled on Hermione's bed and had wrapped their arms around each other, holding on tightly as if they'd both fall if they let go. They had needed one another for years, Hermione thought, and they needed one another now.

Didn't they?

"Hey, 'Mione," said a voice from beside Hermione, and she turned to see Sophie Roper chewing a scone. Sophie set down her scone and asked, "Are you hoping for a date to the Ball?"

"How could I do that when I've got…" Hermione held up her letter from Ron, then felt her cheeks go hot as she quickly folded it up. It was no love letter, after all. She cleared her throat and shook her head as she said, "Ginny surely won't be going with anyone, either."

"Well, I've got Harry," Ginny said defensively.

"And I've got Ron," Hermione snapped. Ginny was quiet at that, looking away from Hermione and absently pulling a textbook from her rucksack. Hermione felt unease wash over her. What did Ginny know that Hermione didn't?

Before she could think much more on the matter, her eyes flicked up to the Head Table almost of their own accord. She immediately found Lucius Malfoy's gaze, and she just stared. She considered what his childhood must have been like. After all, Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius' father, had been highly suspected to have been involved in the ousting of Minister Nobby Leach before the First Wizarding War. Lucius had inherited Darkness; he'd inherited allegiance to his Dark master. Had Lucius' actual upbringing been as problematic as Draco's, Hermione wondered? He'd probably been indoctrinated for years about all sorts of nonsensical topics - about the supposed inferiority of Muggles and Muggle-borns, about the supposed superiority of people like him, about wealth, about loyalty, about Darkness and Light. Wasn't it inherently difficult to overcome that sort of propaganda?

But Lucius had done it. He and Narcissa and Draco had defected. What did that say about Lucius Malfoy? Hermione pinched her lips together tightly and blinked up at Lucius. He finally looked up from his food and then lowered his eyes the second his gaze locked onto Hermione's. She watched his pale cheeks go a little pink, and suddenly he seemed immensely focused on the breakfast before him.

Hermione looked at her own bowl of porridge and wondered whether Lucius Malfoy still harboured feelings about blood superiority and inferiority. Surely he did. Surely he still felt that way. But if he could realise the wickedness of Lord Voldemort, couldn't he be made to see reason about Muggles and Muggle-borns? Couldn't he be convinced that they had real worth and value? Hermione had six months before Slughorn's antidote would be ready. That had to be enough time to discuss matters of Blood Purity with Lucius Malfoy and try to sway his mind, even if just a little.

Right on cue, a fresh flush of owls came soaring into the Great Hall. Some bore newspapers, others letters. A telltale red envelope made its way over to the Ravenclaw table, and then a witch's voice shrieked out through the Great Hall, Magically Amplified.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, GETTING DETENTION FOR SPEAKING OUT OF TURN IN CLASS? YOU'RE VERY LUCKY THAT YOU'RE NOT AT HOME, YOUNG LADY, OR WE'D MAKE YOU PAY WITH MORE THAN A DETENTION! NEVER AGAIN, VELMA! NEVER AGAIN!"

People went quiet as Velma's Howler destroyed itself. Hermione couldn't help feeling sorry for the Ravenclaw girl. Hermione had broken the rules more times than she could count, but she'd never faced parents like that about it.

Suddenly, there were five owls circling over the Gryffindor table. Hermione looked up and then caught a falling letter out of the air. Four more were dropped at her spot, and she stared at the five letters in wonder.

"Erm… are you getting fan mail?" asked Ginny, and Hermione knew she was only half-kidding.

"No," Hermione said firmly. "It's… they're responses. You see, I had to send out an inquiry, and… erm… anyway, it's just news from the people I've written to."

She gathered up the letters and threw her rucksack over her shoulder. Sophie Roper and Ginny Weasley seemed immensely interested in whatever letters Hermione had received, but she didn't grant them the satisfaction of any more knowledge. She just stood from the bench and said,

"See you in Defence."

With that, she strode quickly out of the Great Hall and made her way up the marble steps. Flight by flight she climbed until she came to the third floor, and she began to take quick steps across the stones. Defence Against the Dark Arts was her first lesson of the day, but no one was up here yet, so it made sense for her to come find a quiet spot to open her mail. She pulled into a corner near Classroom 3C and flipped over the first letter. She broke its seal and opened it, her heart sinking. The second letter was just as bad. The third and fourth planted pits in the bottom of her abdomen. Finally, with her last scrap of hope waning, Hermione opened the last letter, pulling it out with shaking fingers and reading.

We regret that we have not got the antidote in question in stock. However, we would be more than happy to brew it on your behalf. As I'm sure you're aware, that process does take six months. We would require half the cost of the antidote as a down payment, with the remainder due in six months' time. The potion costs eighty Galleons due to the extraordinary nature of its ingredients.

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. Not one of the five shops she'd written to had the antidote. Not one. She let out a shaking breath and pulled the letters close to her chest as she leaned back against a wall and shut her eyes.

"Fan mail, Miss Granger?"

Hermione opened her eyes to see Lucius Malfoy, who had appeared seemingly out of thin air. Had he followed her up here? He looked awfully handsome, she thought, in his midnight blue robes of raw silk and crushed velvet. His silvery hair fell like a waterfall around his shoulders, and his piercing grey eyes bored into hers. Her stomach fluttered strangely, and she gulped.

"You're the second person today to ask me if I've received fan mail," she said, "and I've no idea why that is."

"No?" Lucius tipped his head and smirked. "You're a war heroine. Isn't that enough?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart got fan mail for a lot less," Hermione reasoned. Lucius chuckled and shook his head.

"Petty to speak ill of a madman, don't you agree? So, what are those letters, Miss Granger? Are they, as I suspect, rejections from potions shops?"

Hermione gnawed her lip and then passed the fifth letter, the last one outlining the price of the potential antidote, to Lucius. He took it and read it, his pale eyes flashing. He shook his head again and said,

"The eighty Galleons is nothing, but -"

"Pah!" Hermione guffawed. "Eighty Galleons is a lot of money, Professor Malfoy."

"Price is no object in this case," Lucius said delicately, curling up his lips without a hint of merriment in his eyes. He visibly gulped and said, "The problem appears to be that there will simply not materialise an antidote for this poison until six months from now, and that is an unacceptable eternity."

"Poison," Hermione repeated, narrowing her eyes. "Is it so bad as all that, not hating me?"

"I… I misspoke," Lucius muttered, lowering his gaze. "No, it is not so bad as all that."

"Hostis amica mea est," Hermione quoted him, and he wet his lips before saying softly,

"We can't be actual friends, you and I. We were enemies just days ago."

"Was it very difficult?" Hermione asked him, somewhat out of the blue. "Growing up with the world on your shoulders?"

She expected Lucius to snap at her, for him to insist that his upbringing was no business of hers, that she had no right asking him anything as personal as that. But instead his eyes softened and he murmured,

"It was… looking back at it, my father's father was deeply flawed, and so he imbued flaws into my father, who passed them along to me, and now I've done it to Draco. But it was only after we defected that I began to see the first glimmers of fault in the past, and only in the last few days that I have begun questioning the cornerstones of my philosophy."

Hermione felt a warm prickle in her eyes then, and she whispered,

"Do you hate my parents? For being Muggles?"

"They are your parents," Lucius said lightly. "And they can not help it if they lack magic."

"I asked if you hated them," Hermione said. Lucius appeared to chew the inside of his cheek, and then he said,

"No. Because they are your parents, and you are… not my enemy. Not right now."

"Not for six more months," Hermione nodded sadly. "Then we'll be enemies again, won't we? That's what you want. You want to hate me."

"No!" Lucius snapped the word at her, and Hermione recoiled in fear. He reached out for her shoulder to pull her back, and she stared at her hand on her robe. She expected him to snatch the hand away, like he'd done when he'd wiped a tear from her eye. But instead he just stood there with his fingers wrapped over Hermione's shoulder, and he muttered,

"We are going to keep things cordial but distant, you and I. I am a teacher, a married wizard, and the father of your peer, and you -"

"I would never," Hermione breathed defensively. "I would never do anything with a teacher, with a married man."

"As though I had propositioned you," Lucius scoffed tightly, but Hermione noted that his hand was still on her shoulder. He finally, slowly dropped the hand and said, "You and I will be teacher and student on good terms and nothing more, Miss Granger. Do you understand?"

"I understand, sir," Hermione whispered. She stared up at him, though, and she thought again that his sculpted face and his unique hair and eyes made him exceedingly handsome. She observed his long cane and wondered just how much damage he'd done with it over the years. Somehow, she didn't mind right now. It didn't matter. Why didn't it matter?

She reached out, very much on impulse, and brushed her fingers down the lapel of Lucius' crushed velvet outer robe. He pursed his lips and said quietly,

"Cordial but distant, Miss Granger."

"I'm so sorry." She ripped her hand off of him, but he caught her wrist, wrapping his fingers around her skin and staring at her hand for a moment. Then he gulped heavily and slowly lowered her hand, still holding her wrist as he purred,

"Pretty little witch, you are. I never noticed."

"I think you just saw me as a disgusting Mudblood, sir," Hermione sighed. Lucius dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and opened his mouth to say something, but then the sound of students coming up the steps from the Great Hall jolted both of them. He staggered backward, releasing Hermione's hand, and she wrenched her arm back. She rubbed at the wrist he'd been holding and then pulled out her wand. She aimed it at all the letters she'd received about the antidote for the Draught of Magnes, Vanishing them.

"Get in the classroom," Lucius said quickly, and Hermione hustled past him and rounded the corner. Somehow, somehow, she managed to make it through the entire lesson only asking one question and mostly keeping her eyes on her parchment. After the lesson was finished, Hermione and Ginny were the first ones out of the door. Ginny shuddered and said,

"Just can't stand him. He's a complete bastard. Don't know what Kingsley was thinking putting him here. I dread his lessons so badly, Hermione; I can't even imagine how you feel."

"I…" Hermione thought of the time she'd been brought to Malfoy Manor and tortured by Bellatrix. Lucius had been desperate by then, she thought. He'd only wanted to keep his family alive. Voldemort was just as much a threat to Lucius at that point as he'd been to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Lucius had been in danger when he'd allowed Hermione to be treated so badly in his own home. Hadn't he? She turned to Ginny and finally shrugged.

"I think he's a fair teacher. He does a good job lecturing. We get a lot of information. He answers questions well. I think he's better than any other Defence teacher we've had."

Ginny froze. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. "What are you on about?"

"I just… don't think he's all that bad. That's all," Hermione tossed her hands up. "He's a talented teacher and he's not cruel to us in lessons, is he?"

Ginny looked shocked. "It's almost like you used that bloody potion, that Draught of Magnes, on him. Have you lost your mind?"

"N-No!" Hermione's cheeks felt very hot. "No, of course not. I still have the Draught of Magnes. I haven't used it. Why would I use it on Lucius Malfoy? That would be very silly, and, anyway, how would he agree to simultaneously -"

"You are blathering on, and I think you're lying," Ginny said sharply. Hermione's mouth fell open and she scoffed loudly.

"Lying! Ginevra Weasley, are you my friend or aren't you?"

"Do you hate Lucius Malfoy or don't you?" Ginny retorted. Hermione hesitated just a moment too long.

"Where's the potion?" Ginny demanded. "Your vial of Draught of Magnes. Where is it?"

"It's… it's in my trunk." Hermione's cheeks were on fire by this point. Ginny shook her head.

"Show it to me after dinner, then."

"I think I may have lost it," Hermione said, looking away. Ginny was silent, and finally Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and stamped her foot. She balled her hands into fists and snarled at Ginny, "It was an accident! I bumped into him in the corridor and dropped the vial. It broke. We both breathed it in."

"Well, get the bleeding antidote, then!" Ginny said shrilly. "You need to fix this!"  
"The antidote takes six months. I've written around looking for some, but our best option is for Professor Slughorn to brew it," Hermione huffed. "For the next six months, I just won't be able to bring myself to hate him. And he… he doesn't hate me right now. It's oddly pleasant."

"Pleasant!" spat Ginny, so loudly that some passing first-years gave them odd looks. "Pleasant? You have gone absolutely mad. We need to take you to St Mungo's so they can -"

"No, Ginny. It isn't so bad. Really. Finding that your enemy is someone you can no longer hate… it's a strangely relieving sensation. I don't… I don't mind it."

"Do you remember all the things he's done?" growled Ginny. "All the ways he's hurt you, and me, and Harry, and Ron, and everyone else that we care about? Have you forgotten about the scars that man has left upon us, physical and mental?"

"No! I haven't forgotten!" Hermione insisted. "It's just that I see him through a new lens now, and I see… explanations. Not excuses. Not justification. It's as if I can see more information about his life this way."

"I have no interest in his life," Ginny said, looking queasy. "If it were up to me, he'd be in Azkaban with the rest of them."

"The rest of them." Hermione choked out a noise and shook her head. "Ginny, he's not a Death Eater. He defected."

"He's a coward, and he's cruel," Ginny said, "and if you can't see through the haze of this potion for the next six months, then you're going to see a lot less of me. I won't have anything to do with someone who tries to rationalise the crimes of Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione sucked her lip and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling helpless. Ginny just laughed mirthlessly and whirled around, dashing off down the stairs.

Notes: So there's definitely an attraction between Lucius and Hermione, but will either of them act on it? And Ginny knows and is more than a little upset - will she tell Ron or Harry? Will she tell McGonagall? Or will she keep it a secret? And WHAT ABOUT THE BALL?

Thank you so much for reading. Please do take a quick moment to leave a review. I greatly appreciate your feedback.


	6. Balls and Letters

_My dearest Narcissa,_

_Things aren't nearly as bad as I think you and I assumed they would be. Of course, the students and staff all despise me, but that was to be expected and is, I think, irrelevant. I do not care for their opinions. My rooms are comfortable enough, and the food is still as good as it was when you and I were students. Though I feel like something of a prisoner here, I can not help but think that if this is to be my penance, the situation could certainly be far worse. Teaching comes somewhat naturally to me; I am able to lecture and interact with the students with relative ease._

_How are you, my sweet wife? I trust that Draco spends enough time with you, and that you do not feel as alone as you did when I was in Azkaban. I also trust that you are keeping yourself busy and not letting your mind idle. You know that I love you._

_Until we see one another again,_

_Lucius_

* * *

_My beloved Lucius,_

_I am elated to hear that you are not so tortured as I feared you would be. It is no surprise that our enemies, old and new, fail to grant you the respect you deserve, but I am sorry to hear it nonetheless. Draco is fine. I am fine. But we do miss you terribly. Our world is incomplete without you._

_Draco has begun dating the Greengrass girl more seriously. I think he means to court her. I know she is hardly yours or my first choice for Draco, but I suppose ultimately we wish for the happiness of our only child. Don't we? I wish you were here to discuss our lives, Lucius. The Manor is empty without you. My bed is empty without you. Visit soon._

_Your wife forever and truly,_

_Narcissa_

Lucius Malfoy read over Narcissa's letter again as he sat on the edge of his plush four-poster bed. He wore luxe black silk pyjamas and had combed his hair meticulously after bathing. Now he read his wife's missive for the third time that day before Banishing it back to his desk. He stared at it and thought of his Narcissa - bold, beautiful, brave Narcissa. She wanted him to visit, but he knew he couldn't do it yet. To leave Hogwarts would be to give his enemies power. He needed to remain here with a brave face on, chin tipped up and voice imperious as he succeeded in teaching.

And, anyway, this weekend he had to chaperone the Start-of-Term Ball.

Lucius curled himself under the heavy blankets on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He huffed out a long breath and then turned his thoughts to the enemy who had been made a strange sort of ally - Hermione Granger. Lucius still cursed Horace Slughorn in his mind for assigning the Draught of Magnes. In fact, if he hadn't been counting on Slughorn to brew the antidote, Lucius certainly would have Hexed the man by now.

It was obnoxious, he thought, to be trapped in a situation where the girl whom he had always seen as an inferior annoyance was now a… what was she? Not a friend, but certainly not an adversary. His mind drifted back to the moment earlier in the day when Hermione had reached out to touch his robes, and he'd caught her wrist in his hand. Her skin had felt warm and soft beneath his hard touch. She had looked at him, wide-eyed and pretty, and the hair on the back of his neck had stood up. Then people had come. What if people hadn't come? What would have happened if he'd just stood there holding her wrist, standing there with her gazing up at him?

Was he _attracted_ to her? Surely not. Surely she was just a student. And, anyway, there were potions at play. But she had interesting hair, and lovely eyes, and a neatly sculpted face that she'd grown into. He'd watched her age, and now she seemed like a truly adult witch. She was older than the rest of the seventh-years. She had actually aged out of Hogwarts. Was it the worst thing in the world if he looked at her just a little lasciviously? Did that make him a villain? Did he care about that one bit?

Lucius shut his eyes and let his fingertips drag over the fitted sheet on the mattress. He let his touch drift toward his chest, and then he remembered the way she'd touched him. Her fingers, long and slender, had reached out and brushed over his robe. He had shivered when she'd touched him, and he shivered now remembering it.

"Miss Granger," Lucius whispered, "What have you done to the both of us?"

He lowered his hand and rolled over, determined to fall asleep.

* * *

"Miss Granger. Might I have a word?" Lucius stood behind Hermione at the Gryffindor table, and she whirled around at the sound of his voice. Her chestnut eyes went very wide indeed, and she swallowed her bite of apple. She set the apple down and rose, and Lucius noticed that the other Gryffindors who were seated around her seemed awfully curious. Ginny Weasley was giving them a death glare as Lucius led Hermione away from the tables and towards the same corner where he'd berated Slughorn about the Draught of Magnes.

"There is something I wish to tell you," Lucius said quietly once they'd reached the corner. Hermione looked around, apparently feeling the dozens of eyes upon her from curious onlookers. She licked her lips - her pretty, full lips - and she nodded.

"Yes, Professor Malfoy?"

"I am…" He gulped hard and bowed his head, determined to do this. He'd made up his mind the night before, after hours of restlessly tossing in his bed, that he was going to do this. Finally he murmured, "I am… sorry."

For a very long moment, Hermione said nothing. He looked at her, and she was blinking through tears. She sniffled a little, her nose going red and swollen, and she asked in a choked voice,

"For what?"

"For all of it," Lucius told her. He sighed and curled his hand over the silver cap of his walking stick. "I am sorry for giving Ginny Weasley the diary, because it wound up meaning that you got Petrified. I am sorry for encouraging my son to call you a Mudblood. I am sorry for calling you a Mudblood in my home. I am sorry for the Hippogriff. I am sorry for the riots that endangered your life at the Quidditch World Cup. I am sorry for fighting you at the Department of Mysteries. I am sorry for all the battles, actually. All the fighting. The… torture. I am very sorry for Dobby. I know you cared for him."

Tears were streaming down Hermione's cheeks now, and she just nodded. She glanced up to the Head Table, and when Lucius looked over his shoulder to do the same, he saw Horace Slughorn eyeing them curiously. He knew exactly what was going on, Lucius thought. He knew that they were having a conversation that they never would have had without the Draught of Magnes. Lucius sniffed and jutted out his chin.

"That's all," he said tightly. "I merely wished to apologise."

There was another moment of silence in which Hermione just gazed at him, and then finally she said,

"I forgive you, Professor Malfoy. For all of it. For all that you did after a childhood spent being raised to be wicked, for all that you did under the influence of a terrible Dark wizard, and for all that you have done in the name of malicious prejudice, I forgive you."

"Oh." He wasn't expecting that, somehow. He'd been expecting her to roll her eyes at him and stomp off. He wasn't sure why he'd expected that, nor why he'd set his mind to apologising just the same. But instead she'd absolved him. It was an odd sensation, and Lucius wasn't certain of what to do with it. He dragged his teeth over his lip and asked,

"Who's taking you to the Ball?"

"I'm sorry?" Hermione shook her head, apparently bemused by Lucius' question. He cleared his throat and asked again,

"Who is your date for the Start-of-Term Ball?"

"Oh. I haven't got one. Going alone," Hermione told him. She smiled a little and said, "You'll hardly have to dress up. You're practically in dress robes on a daily basis."

"I appreciate the nuance of fashion," Lucius smirked. Hermione actually laughed then, a genuine laugh, and it was so pretty of her to do it that Lucius' breath caught in his throat. He tried to think of Narcissa, to think of anything except Hermione Granger laughing, but he wound up just shutting his eyes and saying,

"Back to the table to finish your breakfast, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione whispered. She stared for another long while, and then finally she turned and walked away.

* * *

_My dearest Lucius,_

_I think that Astoria Greengrass is having a terrible influence on Draco. She has convinced him that Mudbloods are not so bad, after all, and that they deserve 'a fair and just place in wizarding society.' She said this at dinner here at the Manor! She said it right in front of me! Draco then said that witches like Hermione Granger were examples of Mudbloods who could probably be very successful. I couldn't believe my ears, Lucius. You would be horrified. Draco is changing, and it's because of this Greengrass girl. I told them never to speak of such things in my presence again. If you were here, you'd Hex the both of them, I just know it. I am irate. Please come visit soon to calm my nerves._

_Yours forever,_

_Narcissa_

Lucius tore up Narcissa's letter and tossed it into the fireplace before which he stood. He blinked a few times as he watched the parchment curl and blacken, as he watched Narcissa's words crisp into smoke. He cleared his throat and took a few steps back from the fireplace, straightening the outer robe of his tuxedo ensemble. He had not written back to Narcissa. He wasn't sure what to say to that letter. How could he write to his wife and agree with her when he'd just yesterday apologised to Hermione Granger for everything he'd done?

Should he tell Narcissa, he wondered? Should he reveal the Draught of Magnes to her? He shook his head as he strutted out of his quarters and down the corridor, putting thoughts of Narcissa out of his mind. He had a job to do; he was a teacher and a chaperone for the Start-of-Term Ball. He descended the marble stairs that led to the Entrance Hall, and he could already hear voices inside the Great Hall.

When he walked through the enormous doors of the Great Hall, he immediately saw that it had been overtaken with autumnal decorations. Leaves of crimson, orange, and gold tumbled slowly from the enchanted ceiling, disappearing before they hit the ground. Banners of maroon, gold, deep blue, and emerald crushed velvet had been hung from the rafters, and there were floating brass lanterns emitting a lovely warm glow. An ensemble of string instruments, undoubtedly Charmed by Flitwick to play themselves, sat at the back of the Hall and emitted beautiful, soothing music. One long table was set up along the left side of the Hall, and it was heaped with meatballs, stuffed mushrooms, cheese, toast with chutney, and towers of sweets. On the other side were enormous bowls of punch.

"Professor Malfoy," trilled the voice of Minerva McGonagall. Lucius turned to see that McGonagall had clad herself in a silk gown in a tartan pattern, and that she wore an elegant black velvet hat. He bowed his head to her and said softly,

"Headmistress. You've never looked lovelier."

"I do not require your platitudes, Mr Malfoy," snapped McGonagall. Lucius curled up his lips a little and nodded. He flicked his eyes up to McGonagall and asked in a silvery voice,

"How may I be of assistance this evening, Professor McGonagall?"

"Your duty," McGonagall said, "Will be to spend the evening in the corridor outside the Great Hall. You'll be watching to be certain no students creep off to abandoned classrooms alone together."

"Ah. Snogging duty," Lucius said with a grim smile. "How noble."

"You have not yet earned the right to stand with the rest of the teachers of this school," McGonagall said cruelly. "You may have proven yourself to Minister Shacklebolt, but you have not yet proven yourself to me. You will stand outside the Hall and watch for students sneaking off."

"Of course," Lucius said amicably. "It would be my pleasure."

McGonagall whirled and walked away, her heels clicking on the stone floor of the Great Hall. Lucius raised his eyebrows and sighed, walking back out the way he'd come. He stood just outside the Great Hall and put his walking stick before him, clasping both hands upon it and waiting. It took ten minutes for the first students to arrive.

The youngest students came in packs, looking like children playing dress-up with their parents' clothes. The little boys in dress robes and the girls in their frilly gowns were amusing to behold. The third and fourth-year girls appeared to have tried to do their own makeup, but most of them lacked a deft hand and wound up looking clownlike. The boys with them were terrifically awkward. The fifth- and sixth-year students who came looked more confident, as though they were growing into the idea of dates and dancing. And the seventh-years looked like veritable adults compared with the youngest in the group.

Where was she, Lucius wondered as more and more students trickled into the Great Hall? She hadn't come yet. Was she skipping the event entirely? Ginny Weasley arrived with two other Gryffindor girls, but Hermione wasn't with them. At last, it seemed like every student had come, and Lucius was confused. But then he heard a voice from behind him.

"Good evening, Professor Malfoy."

He whirled so hard that he almost dropped his walking stick. He clutched it tightly as his mouth fell open. He gaped, somewhat shamelessly, and blinked once or twice to clear his vision. She was…

She was beautiful.

She was wearing a silvery-white sleeveless gown with a high neck, and it had a wispy cape overlay. On the shoulders of the cape, glittering metallic silver embellishments made it look as though Hermione were wearing armour. She had sparkling silver earrings in, and she'd done her makeup in blush pink with heavily lined eyes. She had made her hair sleek and smooth, and she'd pulled it back into a low chignon at the nape of her neck.

"Miss… erm…" Lucius coughed.

"Granger," she smirked, and he puffed out a nervous breath.

"Mmm. You're late, aren't you? Best go inside and have yourself a good time."

"Have they given you snogging patrol?" Hermione looked around, and Lucius chuckled under his breath. He nodded.

"The Headmistress does not find my presence suitable inside the Ball. I'll be out here, waiting to be certain no one does anything untoward."

"Well, there could be no one better to stop students from having at one another," Hermione jokes, "what with the walking stick and all."

He grinned, the feeling foreign to him. He so rarely grinned. He almost never smiled. Why was he smiling? She was making him smile. He caught himself and brought a fist to his lips, clearing his throat roughly.

"Best go inside," he said again. Hermione nodded and swept past him, her cape billowing behind her as she walked. She looked like a dream, Lucius thought, and then he wrenched his eyes shut and thought of Narcissa, thought of the wife who was waiting for him at Malfoy Manor.

As the night wore on, Lucius stopped three pairs of fifth-years and a pair of sixth-years from trying to sneak off together. It seemed the seventh-years knew better. After a while of listening to the music and conversation, Lucius decided he was bored and that he was thirsty. Minerva McGonagall could scold him all she wanted for abandoning his post; he wanted some punch. He stalked into the Great Hall and caught McGonagall's eye, gesturing to the drinks table. She pinched her wrinkled lips but nodded tightly.

Lucius ladled himself some punch and stood sipping it slowly. Suddenly Horace Slughorn was walking towards him, and Lucius set down his cut-crystal glass. He sighed and said,

"Hello, Horace. How's the antidote coming?"

"It is a long process to brew it, Mr Malfoy. I've only just begun," Slughorn said. "How are things with… erm… life with the Draught of Magnes?"

"Surprisingly tolerable," Lucius said. "I don't mind it as much as I thought I would."

"Oh. That's lovely to hear," Slughorn said jovially. "Perhaps there's no need for the antidote, then, if you -"

"There is certainly need for the antidote," snarled Lucius. He thought of the way he'd apologised to Hermione for everything, the way Narcissa had written to him about Draco and Astoria. He thought of how Hermione had looked so very beautiful tonight, and his eyes drifted around the room until he found her. His gaze settled on where she stood in a corner, looking entirely alone.

"Miss Weasley came to me and said that Miss Granger had used the potion," Slughorn said then, and Lucius snapped his eyes to the other teacher.

"Ginny Weasley knows?"

"Yes," Slughorn said carefully, "but then I… well, sometimes we do ruthless things in times of great necessity."

"You performed a Memory Charm on her?" Lucius asked incredulously. Slughorn shook his head and looked horrified.

"No! No, of course not. I Confounded her into keeping it a secret. I don't know how long that will last, but I planted the idea in her mind that keeping that information close was best."

"I'm not surprised she figured it out," Lucius muttered, picking up his punch again. "The girls are close. Or, at least, they were until a few days ago."

"Miss Granger seems very much alone just now," Slughorn noted sorrowfully. "She hasn't got the Weasley boy or Harry Potter here. They were always so close, the three of them. But now, it seems, she is truly on her own."

"Hmm." Lucius nodded. "Will you excuse me, Horace?"

"Of course." Slughorn nodded and turned to walk away. Lucius finished off his punch and set down the empty glass, striding around the edge of the dance floor towards the corner where Hermione stood alone, eating from a small plate.

"Bored?" he asked as he walked up to her. She smiled at him and shrugged.

"No one to dance with," she said, "and my friends don't seem to want to talk to me right now. Ginny knows."

"Yes. I was just made aware of that," Lucius said softly. "You're Head Girl. Would you care to assist me with Snogging Patrol?"

Hermione laughed and set her plate down on the table beside her. She followed Lucius out of the Great Hall and out into the Entrance, where the two of them just stood for a moment.

"You look -" they both said at the exact same time, and then Lucius' face flushed hot. Hermione's cheeks went pink, and she held out her hand.

"I was going to say, you look just as… erm… stately as ever. Sir."

"Mmm. I was going to say that you looked like you'd spent a fortune on that gown," Lucius countered. It wasn't what he'd been about to say. He'd been about to tell her that she was beautiful. But something had stopped him, and it wasn't just Hermione interrupting him.

"Are you really sorry?" Hermione asked suddenly, and Lucius sighed. He shrugged.

"I can not help but be sorry. I would not be sorry without the potion. But because of the potion, I am most sincerely sorry. That does not make sense."

He lowered his eyes and muttered,

"How can one be sincere when one's mind has gone mad?"

"Even if it's just pretend," Hermione said quietly, "I'd like to imagine that you are sorry. I liked hearing you say it. That you regretted Dobby. That you didn't like calling me names. I liked to hear you say it, Professor Malfoy."

"Lucius," he hissed, more to himself than to her. She did not seem to hear him, and she continued on,

"Even if it's only the effect of a potion that will have been reversed in less than six months, I'd like to think that some small part of you really is sorry. I'd like to think that those words are coming from a real place. Even if it's all make-believe, it comforts me."

Lucius was quiet for a long while then. Finally, a pair of fifth-year Hufflepuffs came staggering out of the Great Hall arm-in-arm, and Hermione cleared her throat primly.

"On our way back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, are we?"

Lucius smirked at her imperiousness. He stifled a little laugh as the Hufflepuffs looked horrified at being caught. They wordlessly went back into the Great Hall, and Hermione murmured,

"That was fun."

"You enjoy being bossy," Lucius accused her, and she scoffed.

"Are you denying the same for yourself?"

"No. I enjoy authority quite a bit," Lucius confessed. "Probably too much for my own good. I like being in charge."

"Yes, I know," Hermione said. She met his eyes, and for a long moment, he felt like he was floating. He finally told her,

"It is a nice dress. The one you're wearing."

"It was my mother's when she was my age," Hermione told Lucius. "She gave it to me just before I erased myself from her memory. I did find her this summer, in Australia, and put her memory back to rights. She asked if I'd kept the dress."

Lucius was caught somewhat speechless then. Hermione had erased herself from the minds of her Muggle parents to protect them from the Dark Lord? That was… it was extreme. He wet his lips and said,

"I'm glad you've been reunited with them."

"Are you? Are you really glad?" Hermione asked softly, and Lucius nodded.

"I am."

Hermione touched her teeth to her pink bottom lip and then whispered, "Professor Malfoy…"

"Lucius," he told her, "if we are to be friends, you and I."

"I thought," she said, "that we were to be distant but cordial. Not friends, only… not enemies. That's what you told me."

_I lied,_ he thought, but he just shook his head and said,

"You're right, of course. Distant but cordial. I, erm, forgot myself. Perhaps you ought to go back into the Ball; it's nearly over. Find a boy to dance with. You're a combat heroine. I'm sure many boys are itching to dance with you."

"Goodnight, Professor," Hermione said, and he swallowed hard as he nodded and watched her turn.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged, and he turned away.

**Notes: Well, we're into Lumione territory now, but it's shallow waters. We're going to delve a lot deeper than this, but first - a talk between Ginny and Hermione, another letter from Ron, and a visit to Malfoy Manor after Narcissa insists.**

**Thank you so kindly for reading. Please do review.**


	7. Cordial But Distant

"Hermione."

Ginny reached for Hermione's shoulder just as Hermione pulled her pyjama shirt over her head. Ginny waited until Hermione turned around, and then she noted quietly,

"You were all alone at the Ball."

"Yes, I was," Hermione said, a bit sharply , "because my friend Ginny didn't seem to want anything to do with me."

"You have to understand," Ginny said, looking around to be sure none of the other girls were listening. She lowered her voice and hummed, "It's _him_. If it were anyone else, even Draco Malfoy, I could… I could live with it. But him, Hermione. He's evil."

"I don't think you understand him," Hermione argued. Ginny's jaw dropped.

"You really are under the influence of a terrible potion!" she argued. "Try - just _try_ \- to see sense here. Have you forgotten what Draco used to call you, trained by his father?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Hermione mumbled. Ginny barreled on,

"Have you forgotten what it felt like to fight against him at the Department of Mysteries, to have him here at the Battle of Hogwarts on Voldemort's side until the very last minute? Have you forgotten all of that?"

"Ginny," Hermione hissed, "I _can't_ hate him. I just can't. You don't seem to be processing the bit of this that is out of my control."

"Why did you drop that vial?" Ginny moaned, shutting her eyes and touching her forehead. "Why did you bump into him and drop the damned vial?"

"Well, do you suppose I did it on purpose?" Hermione exclaimed. "Do you suppose I _wanted_ to like Lucius Malfoy?"

"So now it's not just not hating him. Now you like him," Ginny spat. Hermione shook her head, her eyes welling.

"You mustn't tell anyone. Ginny, swear to it that you won't tell anyone."

Ginny was silent. Hermione reached for Ginny's elbow and shook a little.

"You haven't? You haven't told anyone about it, have you?"

"I wrote to Harry the day I figured it out," Ginny muttered. Hermione felt her heart sink. She thought she would be sick right there in the dormitory, but Ginny clarified, "He wrote back and said it was a terrible accident, and he was completely horrified, but that it could have happened to anybody. He said he was sure it would work itself out with the antidote. He said he wasn't going to tell Ron, because he didn't think Ron would take it well."

"And have _you_ told Ron?" Hermione demanded. Ginny stared at Hermione for a long moment, shaking her head, and then said,

"There's something you should know about Ron."

* * *

_Hermione,_

_I would have told you sooner. I really would have. I know that Harry is the one who let on to Ginny what was going on. Her name is Anja Anker. She's from Copenhagen. She's come to London as a Danish representative to the Ministry. She and I met at the Ministry canteen, and she started coming with me to the Leaky Cauldron after work. I won't go into detail, but I think it's safe to say she's my girlfriend now. I'm really sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to hurt you like this. You know I'll always love you as a friend. Always. I miss you._

_Ron_

Hermione blinked through tears as she sat at the Gryffindor table and folded up the letter Ron had sent her. Ginny had already revealed all of this information the night earlier, but seeing it in written form from Ron himself was almost too painful to believe. Anja Anker from Denmark had stolen away the only boy Hermione had ever really wanted.

She flicked her eyes up to the Head Table to see that Lucius Malfoy was missing today from breakfast. Perhaps he'd slept in, she thought. That made her wonder what his quarters were like, and whether he was wearing pyjamas right now, and -

_Stop it, Hermione, you stupid mad witch!_

"Coming to Quidditch, 'Mione?" asked Sophie, and Hermione just shook her head.

"I'm spending the entire day in the library," she vowed, and she flung her bag's strap over her head and threw herself away from the bench of the table. As she stalked off, she heard Sophie say to Ginny,

"Something's got her in a twist."

"Be gentle; it's more than it seems," Ginny replied. That only made Hermione's eyes sear more, and she rushed out of the Great Hall and through the Entrance toward the staircase that led to her safe haven in this castle - the library.

* * *

"Lucius! Oh, Lucius!" Narcissa threw herself into Lucius' outstretched arms, and he bent his head and smelled lavender on her. It was a familiar scent, a comforting aroma after all these years of marriage. He kissed the top of her hair and then waited as she burrowed her face against his chest for a moment. Finally she tipped her face up and whispered, "Kiss me; I've missed you."

Lucius did as she asked, pressing his lips to hers. But he felt almost nothing when he did it. He felt no spark, no light. They were hardly newlyweds, but usually a kiss from Narcissa elicited some semblance of response. This, what was happening now with his tongue in her mouth, was almost repelling. She seemed to sense his lack of enthusiasm, and when they broke apart, Narcissa demanded,

"What have they done to you? After Azkaban, you rushed me upstairs and took me and kissed me until I couldn't breathe. Now you feel… far away."

"My mind is preoccupied. I apologise." Lucius sighed and licked his bottom lip. "Where is Draco?"

"Off with that horrid Greengrass girl," Narcissa said, taking a step back from Lucius. They were standing in the emerald drawing room, the one with the black grand piano and the elaborate Turkish rugs. Lucius looked round his Manor and realised just how paltry his rooms at Hogwarts were by comparison.

He'd only come today because Narcissa had written to him this morning that if he didn't go down to Hogsmeade and Apparate home, she'd go mad. He had come at once, determined to spend a few hours with her before returning to his post at the school. He pinched his lips as he looked around again, surveying his home.

"So he's off with Astoria," Lucius said absently. "Does she make him happy, Narcissa?"

Narcissa puffed and shrugged. "It seems so, but the girl is almost a Blood Traitor, Lucius. She says that Mudbloods should have _rights,_ real rights! She says they should be treated…"

Narcissa trailed off and blanched. She knit her hands together and looked away. Lucius furrowed his brows and asked,

"She says they should be treated how?"

"Astoria Greengrass says," Narcissa spat angrily, "that Mudbloods should have equal opportunity for employment and the like. Same as Purebloods. She says there's no real difference as long as magical ability is considered. And Draco! He's just as badly off. He _agreed_ with her, Lucius. He said that he knew a few Mudbloods who were more intelligent than him."

"Yes, you mentioned that in your letter," Lucius said primly. "He specified the Granger girl."

"Well. I told him… just because she had higher marks in school does not mean that she is not the enemy!" Narcissa said. "I told the both of them that until they stopped talking like that about Mudbloods, I didn't want them in the Manor. I won't have that kind of talk here, Lucius."

"You won't," Lucius nodded. "Hm. I admit, Narcissa, that I have had my own mind shifted just a little when it comes to matters such as these."

Narcissa blinked and stared at him. "I'm sorry? I… don't understand."

"I have students from all backgrounds," Lucius shrugged. "I find that their Blood status does not affect their performance in the classroom. Indeed, Miss Granger is my most eager and knowledgeable pupil, and she -"

"Have you been writing to Astoria and Draco?" Narcissa asked disbelievingly. "Have they gotten into your head somehow? I can't believe you'd speak well of that girl."

"She's astonishingly capable," Lucius shrugged, "and she really is by far my best student."

"A Mudblood, though," Narcissa snarled, her eyes flashing. "Let it not be forgotten that the girl has filthy Muggles for parents."

Lucius opened his mouth and sighed. "Narcissa, she can't help the way she was -"

"McGonagall's gotten to you, has she?" Narcissa asked, her voice going shrill. "Flitwick? One of Dumbledore's old friends. They've gotten into your head more surely than the Dementors did in Azkaban."

"Don't speak to me about things you do not understand," Lucius said through clenched teeth. He gripped his walking stick tightly and said, "You do not understand what happened to me in Azkaban. And you do not understand why my views on this issue may have shifted slightly. You can not comprehend any of it."

"Because I'm stupid. Is that it?" Narcissa asked, crossing her arms. "You think I'm too foolish to understand these things?"

"I think your mind has been corrupted over a great many years," Lucius said. "I am glad for Draco that he finally has a voice of reason telling him -"

"I think you should go back to Hogwarts." Narcissa's eyes welled heavily. She shook her head, completely shocked by all this, and she whispered, "I think you should leave now."

"Yes. That's… probably for the best." Lucius turned and started to walk out of the drawing room. Narcissa followed him and yelled,

"My husband and my son have gone completely mad! I am the only one left in this Manor with any sense of reason! I am the only one left in this family who still values our Blood for what it is!"

"And you, therefore," Lucius said, looking over his shoulder, "are very much alone."

He whirled to his right, bypassing his own security measures and Disapparating straight out of the corridor.

* * *

"Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up from the table where she was sitting, reading a copy of _Centaur Archery: A History and Practical Guide._ She brushed her fingers over the aged pages and gulped as Lucius Malfoy came walking into the deserted library. He pulled out a seat and sat opposite her at the table, and he smirked a little.

"Even Madam Pince has gone to Quidditch," he said, "but not you."

"Did you look for me there, sir?" Hermione scoffed, but Lucius shook his head and said softly,

"It's raining, and your old friends are no longer on the team. I thought that I might find you here, nose buried in a tome. I suspect that, last year, you missed this library."

"Yes, you're very right," Hermione said sadly. "I'll miss it once I graduate, too. I adore reading. I don't own enough books of my own."

"Malfoy Manor has a ridiculous quantity of books," Lucius sighed. "They're barely touched. Some of them are six hundred years old. Others are one-of-a-kind illuminated manuscripts of fairy tales, spellbooks enchanted by wizards a hundred years ago."

"Stop! You're making me so jealous." Hermione felt her cheeks flush as she laughed a little. "I couldn't possibly live with that many books at my constant disposal. I would _always_ be reading."

"You mean like you are right now?" Lucius asked, and Hermione tossed her hands up.

"Centaur archery is very interesting."

"Yes, I reckon it is," Lucius said. He let out a small breath and leaned his walking stick on the table and then folded his hands. He leaned forward a little bit and suggested, "I think you and I understand one another right now better than anyone else understands either of us. I do realise that we are under the influence of a potion, but… tell me, Miss Granger. Who are your closest friends at the moment?"

Hermione remembered the letter she'd gotten from Ron this morning, and her eyes prickled. She shook her head, and Lucius continued,

"Do your Muggle parents understand this world?"

"No," she admitted. "They try, but they can't. And the rest of my family doesn't even know that I'm a witch. Aunts and uncles and cousins and all that. Grandparents. They think I'm a Muggle, like them. But I'm different."

"So you are," Lucius agreed. He tipped his head and said, "I have just come from Malfoy Manor, where I got into a rather heated discussion on the academic prowess and value of Mud… of… Muggle-born students."

Hermione blinked. He'd fought with Narcissa Malfoy about her? She swallowed past the knot in her throat and whispered,

"Then maybe you're right. Maybe nobody understands either of us."

'That isn't what I said." Lucius sniffed. "I said that we understand one another better… _right now_ … than anyone else understands us. It is a strange situation to be in, I realise."

"You found me in this library," Hermione shrugged. "Clearly you know me well enough."

Lucius leaned back in his chair and asked lightly,

"What is the most interesting thing you've read today about Centaur archery, Miss Granger?"

"Oh. I think the most intriguing fact I've extracted is that Centaurs had Longbows three hundred years before Muggles invented them. By the time Muggles fought extensively with Longbows at the Battle of Agincourt, Centaurs were already expertly utilising them for long-distance arrow launches. Of course, they use more compact bows for hunting."

"Yes, of course." Lucius smiled a little at her, and Hermione felt her stomach flutter. Her chest felt heavy inside. She studied Lucius' features - his sharp face, his silver eyes, his flowing hair, and suddenly she wondered just what it would be like to feel his silky tresses on her skin. She had an impulsive urge to reach out and touch him, but she restrained herself. He stared right at her, though, and she knew she was giving herself away when he whispered,

"Cordial but distant, Miss Granger."

"Yes, of course." Hermione echoed his words, lowered her eyes, and turned the page of her book. She cleared her throat and resumed reading.

_Centaurs are known to stand in specific positions and fire arrows at the stars in the sky in order to try and influence the future. Though they know very well that the arrows will not reach the heavens, it is believed that the effort itself to shoot a star will shape the Cosmos' neverending journey through -_

"Miss Granger."

Hermione turned and then found herself staring at Lucius' black leather belt with its silver clasp. She raised her eyes and realised he'd come to stand beside her chair. She gazed up at him and murmured,

"Professor Malfoy."

He beckoned to her with one finger, and she slowly stood. She brought herself to her feet and then found herself standing _awfully_ close to him, realising just what sort of height difference they had. She barely reached his shoulder. Suddenly that fact made her very aware of his shoulders, and she reached up to brush her knuckles over the thick velvet there. In response, his own hand came up and cupped Hermione's jaw, tipping her face up to him.

 _This is not cordial but distant,_ Hermione thought. She frantically tried telling herself that this was all the potion, that she hated him, that he was evil. She tried telling herself what Ginny had told her. But then she realised that she _craved_ this man; she wanted him so badly she could scream.

A confused thought wormed its way through Hermione's head then. Professor Slughorn had said that the Draught of Magnes would make people friendly toward one another. It was a peace potion, not a love potion, Slughorn had asserted. So why was she feeling such powerful urges toward Lucius Malfoy, urges that seemed more than a little reciprocated?

"Miss Granger," Lucius whispered again, and when she stared into his silver eyes, she saw them flash wildly. His lips parted, and he murmured, "I do not wish to… make you uncomfortable."

"You're not," Hermione promised him, pulling herself closer to him. She squeezed at his shoulder and planted her other hand on his chest. Suddenly he was descending, turning his head just a little, and Hermione gasped. His lips brushed against hers just for a moment, and she let out an involuntary noise when his glossy, silken blond hair brushed over her cheek. Her fingers cinched on his robes, and his own hand tightened a little on her jaw. His other hand wrapped around her waist and planted itself at the small of her back. He kissed her again, more firmly this time, and his breath was rickety against her lips as he pulled away.

"Oh. Gracious." Lucius released Hermione slowly and took a few steps back. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "I am sorry."

"Erm… well, I'm not," Hermione told him. Lucius looked up at her and said,

"It mustn't be like that between us. You and I both know why that happened."

 _A dropped potion. A collision in the corridor and a spilled Draught of Magnes is why that happened,_ Hermione told herself. But then part of her mind screamed that he was handsome and charming and witty and very intelligent. He had negative parts of him, to be certain, but he also possessed many qualities that Hermione valued.

_What are you thinking, Hermione? He's twenty-five years older than you and he's Draco's father, and he's a teacher, and you were enemies not so long ago._

"I'm not sorry," Hermione said again. Lucius nodded and muttered,

"As long as no one is missing me, I think I'll go spend the rest of this highly abnormal day in peaceful solitude. Enjoy your reading on Centaurs, Miss Granger."

He turned and stalked quickly out of the library, his dragon-hide boots and his walking stick clacking a cadence on the stone floor as he went.

**Notes: A kiss! At last! Raise your hand if you're excited to see some real Lumione material start to materialize. Now raise your hand if you're very angry with Ron! Everyone has their hands raised? Okay, good. Haha.**

**Thank you so very much for reviews.**


	8. Lucius and Hermione

"Hi, Hermione." Ginny looked almost shy as she walked into the Potions classroom. Hermione raised her brows and wondered what had made Ginny change her aggressive tone. Perhaps, Hermione thought, Ginny had come to realise that Hermione couldn't help what had happened to her. But then Ginny started setting up her Potions supplies beside Hermione, and she murmured,

"I really am sorry about Ron."

"Oh." Hermione pinched her lips and shook her head. She pulled out her silver knife and her stirring stick and said back, "I almost couldn't believe it. He and I… this summer…"

"I know." Ginny sighed and said, "I have to admit that Mum and I talked this summer about what would happen if you and Ron stayed serious. We even started imagining what would happen if you two got married. Mum wanted you as a daughter-in-law so badly, and -"

"Ginny, believe it or not, you're not actually helping," Hermione said quietly. "It hurts badly enough without the idea of having you and Mrs Weasley… well, anyway. Ron probably doesn't realise how badly he's hurt me."

"I think he only thinks about himself a lot of the time," Ginny said. Hermione chewed her lip and shook her head.

"He's a good friend. He's always been a good friend. And I'll always love him. Even with Anja Anker in his life. Or whomever is the next one."

"Would you take him back?" Ginny asked. "If he dropped that Danish girl, and he wanted you again, would you take him back?"

Hermione's lips pursed, and she brushed a cleaning cloth over her silver knife. She thought of kissing Lucius in the library, and she shivered all of a sudden. "I don't know."

"Welcome, welcome!" cried Horace Slughorn from the front of the classroom, and all the conversations among the students fell quiet. Ginny and Hermione took their seats, and Hermione watched as Slughorn used his wand to write on the chalkboard, " _Burn Healing Gel._ "

"Gels are really difficult," Ginny moaned from beside Hermione. "I've never been able to get them right."

"Gels!" exclaimed Slughorn. "They are a tricky substance to create properly. Too thin, and the gel does not adhere to the skin for topical application. Too thick, and the purposeful ingredients of the gel won't penetrate the skin."

"Professor Slughorn, sir?" Hermione put her hand up, and Slughorn's caterpillar-like brows went up. He lowered his wand and said,

"Miss Granger?"

"How does one achieve the correct viscosity for a potion like this using a pewter cauldron?" she asked. "Doesn't the right consistency require copper?"

"Of course, you're correct, Miss Granger, that a copper cauldron would be ideal for creating a potion like this," Slughorn admitted, "but it is unreasonable to expect that everyone would possess a copper cauldron."

Hermione looked around the room. Only a few students had copper cauldrons. Hermione had a pewter one, and so did Ginny. Ginny's was banged-up, a hand-me-down through many Weasley siblings. Hermione's was in good condition, at least, but it wasn't copper. Hermione thought it was patently unfair for Slughorn to require the students to brew a potion that strongly preferred one metal over another, but she shut her mouth and folded her hands on her desk.

"Now," said Professor Slughorn, "I'd like you to work in pairs today, since this potion is difficult. One of you prepares the ingredients and the other brews. This potion is complete in thirty-three minutes, so you must work quickly once you begin adding ingredients. You will find the instructions on page 37 of your textbook. Begin now."

"What?" Ginny huffed as she flung open her textbook. "Snail mucus, ginseng water, Jujung mushrooms, crushed stag antler, purple orchid petals. Oh, these ingredients are impossible to get right."

"You do the brewing," Hermione said. "I'll fetch and prepare the ingredients."

"Right," Ginny nodded. Hermione made her way to the Potions stores with her textbook. She, like everyone else, gathered a tray full of ingredients and made her way back to the table where she was working with Ginny. She followed the preparation instructions one at a time. She measured out seven ounces of snail mucus into a glass container. She measured six ounces of ginseng water into another container. She minced the Jujung mushrooms with her silver knife, making sure to get the pieces as small as she possibly could. She used a stone mortar and pestle to grind up one prong of a stag antler until it was powdered. She chopped the orchid petals into fine little bits. By the time she'd finished, Hermione had sweat on her brow and was entirely fatigued. She slid the tray over to Ginny and muttered,

"Right, then. There are the ingredients."

"All right. Add the ginseng water and snail mucus first," Ginny read, "then bring to a rolling boil."

She poured in the liquid ingredients and turned up the heat under Hermione's pewter cauldron. Hermione watched as the liquid heated, as bubbles made their way to the surface and eventually began to roll. Ginny then slid in the mushrooms and let them soak into the boiling liquid for five minutes, with Hermione timing on a brass watch.

"Add the stag antler and orchid petals," Hermione said quickly, as soon as the five minutes were up. Ginny used her own knife to scrape in the powdered antler and the chopped petals, but then suddenly there was an awful smell and sound from their cauldron.

Hermione looked into the pewter cauldron to see that the liquid inside had gone black and tarry, as though it had burned. It had thickened into a nasty past that was gurgling from the heat and starting to stick to the cauldron.

"Oh, _no!_ " Hermione exclaimed. "We've burned it somehow."

She looked at Ginny, whose eyes watered. "I'm so sorry," Ginny said. Hermione put her hand on Ginny's elbow and insisted,

"It's Slughorn. Assigning a potion that needs copper to students who have pewter cauldrons."

"My, my. What has happened here?" asked Professor Slughorn, walking briskly over. Hermione lost her temper then.

"It burned, sir, because we haven't got the right cauldron for this potion."

Slughorn gave Hermione a weighty look, as though he knew full well that she was reprimanding him. He coughed quietly and said,

"Well. That is an unfortunate result, ladies. I'm afraid you'll receive no marks for this lesson; that is a failure of a gel, having burned it."

"We wouldn't have burned it if we'd had the right equipment," Ginny Weasley snapped, and Slughorn let out a short breath.

"Scour the mess up, my dears, and then you're dismissed for the day."

He turned and walked away, and Hermione growled as she murmured, "I swear, he's too old and delirious for this job. First he assigns Draught of Magnes - completely irresponsible of him to do that. He assigns a potion that makes people attracted to their enemies. Then he assigns a gel that can only really be made with copper and takes away marks from people who make it in pewter. I have half a mind to go to McGonagall over this."

"Perhaps we should," Ginny said angrily. "I'm just as cross as you are; I need good marks in this class. I want a Potions NEWT, too. But, Hermione…"

Hermione Scoured up the tarry disaster in the Cauldron and began slamming her knife and other Potions materials back into their slots in her leather bag. She Banished the rest of the ingredients to the Stores, and she looked to Ginny.

"Yes?"

Ginny looked abashed. "You said that the Draught of Magnes made people _attracted_ to their enemies. You aren't… please tell me that you aren't…"

"I just meant," Hermione chomped her lip. "I just meant that it makes enemies into friends against their will, and that seems quite immoral to me. He was wrong to assign that potion. That's what I mean."

"And you're going to tell McGonagall about it, right?" Ginny asked. Hermione shook her head.

"No. She'd sack Lucius in a heartbeat, and Kingsley wants him here to make amends."

"Sorry; did you just call him _Lucius?_ " Ginny stared wide-eyed at Hermione, whose mouth fell open as she whispered,

"I've never called him that."

"Mmm." Ginny cleared her throat and packed up her own rucksack. "You know, I really am sorry about Ron. I think the two of you would have been a beautiful couple, and it would have been nice to have you as a sister, 'Mione."

The two of them made their way out of the Potions classroom, going separate ways as Ginny made her way to the Great Hall for lunch and Hermione decided she needed some time in the library.

* * *

He saw her coming in the library corridor and paused. Lucius hadn't spoken alone with Hermione since kissing her. He had thought long and hard about what that kiss had meant. Perhaps, he had concluded, it had meant nothing at all. It had just been lust borne of the Draught of Magnes. They should just ignore it, pretend it never happened.

But then he saw her walking towards him, staring at him as her hair blew behind her through her brisk strides. Her black robe billowed about her, and for some reason, she looked dreamy just now, moving swiftly through the corridor as though she had somewhere very important to be. She approached Lucius as other students moved by them, and she muttered,

"Hullo, Professor."

"Headed to the library, Miss Granger?"

"How'd you know?" she teased. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and Lucius had a sudden urge to bend and kiss the skin just there, the skin just below her ear. He wanted to put his lips against her skin and hear her moan a little for him. He wanted…

"May we speak in private?" he asked, and Hermione's eyes went wide. She looked afraid, as though she were very certain he was going to tell her he hated her again. But he just turned and walked towards the classroom opposite them in the corridor, and Hermione followed. Lucius opened the classroom door, realising they were in the Alchemy classroom. Alchemy was a NEWT-level elective only taught if demand was sufficient. Owing to the previous year's events, no one had been set up to take Alchemy, and this term, the classroom sat unused. There were rows of desks and a chalkboard at the front. The ceilings were arched and held iron chandeliers. There was one window at the end of the classroom, so it was relatively dark inside. Hermione walked into the classroom behind Lucius, who shut the door and pulled out his wand. He aimed it at the door and said firmly,

" _Colloportus._ "

"Am I in trouble, sir?" Hermione asked. Lucius shook his head and stalked into the classroom. Hermione obediently followed him further inside, and when he turned to her between a row of desks, he told her,

"My wife and I no longer agree on the subject of Muggle-borns. I suspect that I'll agree with her again once I've taken the antidote, but for right now, our exchanged letters are… erm… hostile."

"Well, I don't want to disrupt any marriages," Hermione said tightly, "but I must say that if Mrs Malfoy is still holding out on Blood Supremacy, I'm not sorry to hear that you disagree with her."

"I think she knows that something's happened to me," Lucius told Hermione, who licked her lips and asked,

"You think she knows about the Draught of Magnes?"

"She thinks I have been Imperiused, actually," Lucius said. "She went yesterday to the Ministry of Magic and insisted on seeing Kingsley Shacklebolt. When he assured her that nothing had happened to me at Hogwarts, that the Headmistress had assured him of my safety, Narcissa lost her temper and shouted that the Minister, as a Shacklebolt, was a Blood Traitor."

"I don't suppose Kingsley reacted kindly to that," Hermione said, looking angry and crossing her arms.

"No. He told her that if she remained so steadfast in her _prejudice and hatred,_ that he would have no choice but to put her before the Wizengamot like all the other Death Eaters who had served The Dark Lord. He reminded Narcissa that our family is being granted extreme clemency."

"So what did you say to Mrs Malfoy, then?" Hermione asked. Lucius sighed and gulped.

"I wrote to her this morning and told her that I didn't want to hear from her for the time being. That we would speak again in a few months. Perhaps at Christmastime. I told her any letters she sent me would go unread, and that I wouldn't be writing. I also wrote to Draco and told him that he and Astoria are right. And, yet, Miss Granger, I know that I have done all of this to my family because of a potion. I know, intellectually, that I am a prejudiced bastard, as prejudiced as my wife."

"It doesn't need to be that way," Hermione hissed, hurrying toward him. "You don't _have_ to hate me, even after the antidote. You don't have to hate my parents. You know, you could take the antidote and be in control of yourself again and choose not to hate."

"I don't know if I can," Lucius said quietly, "and that is why I am not certain I want the antidote."

Hermione stared up at him and shook her head wildly. "No, we can't… we can't live under the influence of a potion forever."

"I do not _wish_ to hate you," Lucius insisted. "I wish to continue feeling… erm… positively. About you."

Hermione sighed. "There are months to go until the antidote is ready. Let's just wait until then to decide."

"Very well," Lucius agreed. "We'll wait until then to decide."

"You kissed me," Hermione reminded him suddenly, and Lucius gulped again. This time, a knot in his throat made it difficult.

"I did," he said. "I did kiss you. I apologise."

"No," Hermione whispered. She stepped closer to him. "Please don't be sorry. I am not sorry."

She'd said that when they'd kissed. She must have meant it, Lucius realised. He took her face in his hands and murmured gently,

"I'd do it again. Kiss you."

"Then do it," Hermione said up to him, and he crushed her mouth with his before he knew what was happening. Suddenly his hands were all over her; he was dragging fingers around her waist and cupping a breast through her jumper and shirt. Her own hands snaked into his silky hair, and she moaned against his mouth as his tongue reached between her teeth. She gasped when he suckled her bottom lip and squeezed at her breast, and her own fingers cinched on his scalp. Her nails scratched him a little there, feeling so good that Lucius flushed hard in his trousers almost at once. He was forty-five years old; getting this aroused shouldn't be this easy. But after another few moments of kissing and touching her, he was so rigid that it hurt, and he was panting against her lips. He broke free from the kiss and bent lower, pushing her hair back and planting his mouth beneath her ear.

This, _this_ , was what he'd wanted to do when he'd seen her in the corridor. He licked up and down there, holding fast to her waist with both hands. Then his teeth went to work, first on the lobe of her ear and then on the delicate skin beneath. He started to suck mouthfuls of her flesh between his teeth, knowing he would leave a mark. She groaned and held onto his head as he kissed her, and when at last he let her go with a little _pop_ and stood up, she reached for him. Her hand brushed over the lump in his trousers, and she whispered,

"We can't do this. We can't… you're a teacher. I'm a student."

Lucius shut his eyes and nodded. "Right. Erm… I'm sorry."

"No." Hermione whined the word, sounding awfully conflicted. "It's… I _want_ it. So badly. I do."

"You should go to the library now," Lucius told Hermione, and she whispered,

"I'd rather stay and touch you."

"I know. That's why you should go to the library now." He shut his eyes and felt arousal coursing through his veins like fire. He was throbbing for her, pulsating from the inside out. Hermione took his face in his hands and must have leaned up onto her toes, because he felt her lips on his swollen ones for a moment before she whispered,

"Goodbye, Professor."

"Lucius," he murmured down onto her mouth.

"Lucius," she hummed back, and he kissed her again before she pulled back. She started to walk away. He almost stopped her, almost grabbed her wrist and flung her back and pushed over over a desk. He could easily get that skirt up and push her knickers aside and -

"Good day, Miss Granger," he huffed. She turned around and smirked.

"Hermione."

He bit his lip and nodded. "Hermione."

She pulled out her wand to unlock the door, and then she was gone.

**Notes: Well, things are really heating up between Lucius and Hermione, things are taking a turn for the worse between Lucius and Narcissa, and it looks like maybe Hermione wants to pursue Slughorn's frankly terrible teaching with the higher-ups. But at least Ginny and Hermione are on better terms right now, right?**

**Thank you so much for reading. Please do review.**


	9. Rude

"Hello, Hermione."

"Luna." Hermione turned away from her dinner and smiled at the girl who had been so brave throughout the war, the girl who had been so kind in the face of relentless bullying. Hermione vaguely remembered when she, too, had referred to Luna as "Loony Lovegood," and she blushed. "How are you?"

"I was wondering if I could speak to you in private," Luna said airily, and Hermione swallowed hard. She pulled herself up from her bench, leaving a curious-looking Ginny and Sophie behind as she walked with Luna beyond the tables and to the Entrance Hall, where it was empty and quiet. Luna gave Hermione a little smile and said,

"I heard that you won a vial of Draught of Magnes in your Potions class. Nobody won it in ours."

"I, erm… mmm-hmm," Hermione said nervously. "I did. Because I got perfect marks."

"I think it was rather irresponsible of Professor Slughorn to prescribe us an assignment like that," Luna said in a drifting sort of voice. "After all, it makes the people who ingest it… you know, not entirely in control of themselves."

"Right," Hermione said tightly, beginning to suspect that Luna knew exactly what was going on. Luna looked Hermione straight in the eye and asked,

"How have you liked lessons with Professor Malfoy so far, Hermione?"

She knew. Luna knew. Hermione gulped hard and shut her eyes. "It was an accident. I dropped the vial after bumping into him, and we both breathed it in. It was a complete and total accident. I never meant for him to -"

"No, I'm sure not… not after everything he's done to you," Luna said softly. Hermione thought of what Lucius had done to _Luna,_ and her stomach clenched a bit. Luna said, "I admit that I would have a hard time being friends with him, myself, but of course with the help of a potion like Draught of Magnes, anything is possible. Including, I think, the notion that a man like Lucius Malfoy might actually begin to believe all the things the potion is making him think."

Hermione remembered the way Lucius had said he didn't want the antidote, the way he had said that he'd fought with Narcissa Malfoy about Muggle-borns. Could it be that he would actually come to believe in rights for Muggle-borns, that he would unshackle himself from the prejudices into which he'd been born and raised? Hermione could only hope…

"Maybe you're right," Hermione told Luna. "I hope you're right."

"I hope I'm right, too, Hermione," Luna grinned. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if people got along, even people who once despised each other? It would be grand, wouldn't it, if the effects of the Draught of Magnes outlasted the antidote?"

"Luna." Hermione shut her eyes and felt emotion wash over her. She wanted nothing more in all the world than for Lucius' new feelings to be real, than for him to stop hating her without the effects of a potion. She wasn't sure why she wanted that so badly, but she did. She breathed in and out heavily and told Luna again,

"I hope you're right."

* * *

"We have to talk to her," Ginny insisted. Hermione spat out her toothpaste and began rinsing out her mouth. She and Ginny were getting ready for breakfast, both of them already wearing their uniforms. Hermione had pulled her hair into a thick braid today, because she was tired of it falling into her eyes. She stared at Ginny in the mirror and said,

"I don't want to get Professor Slughorn sacked. He was an old friend of Dumbledore's."

"Dumbledore had some interesting friends," Ginny retorted. "Even you have to admit that."

Ginny began pulling her hair back into a ginger ponytail, and Hermione let out a very deep sigh.

"It _was_ wrong of him to assign the Draught of Magnes, but if we go to McGonagall, I'll have to admit that I accidentally used it. And then she'll sack Lucius, and -"

"Hermione," Ginny said, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the sink, " _I'll_ tell her about the Draught of Magnes. You tell her about the pewter cauldron conundrum."

"The Pewter Cauldron Conundrum," Hermione chuckled, but Ginny shot her a serious look and said,

"Slughorn needs to be held accountable. He's teaching his classes like he's gone senile."

"No, you're right, of course," Hermione huffed. "All right. Let's ask to see McGonagall."

At breakfast, Ginny and Hermione marched straight up to the Head Table. Hermione glanced to where Lucius sat, and he flashed her an emotionless gaze for a moment before turning back to his food. Slughorn was stuffing his face mindlessly. Hermione cleared her throat as they walked up before the Headmistress, and she asked,

"Professor McGonagall? Ginny and I were wondering if we could meet with you to discuss something that's been bothering us."

"My dears," trilled McGonagall, setting down her knife and fork, "Is something the matter? Out with it!"

"Erm… could we talk…" Hermione gestured to the empty corner of the Great Hall. Owls started flying in with post for students, so people were sufficiently distracted as McGonagall rose and made her way past the row of teachers on one side of the Head Table. When she walked behind Lucius, he stared at Hermione and flicked up the corners of his lips. Hermione tried not to smile back, but she failed. She let out a little breath as she and Ginny walked over to the corner with McGonagall, who was wearing a towering green hat today.

"Headmistress," Ginny said carefully, "We don't want to disrespect anyone teaching at the school, but we've got a serious problem with one of our professors."

"You mean Lucius Malfoy," McGonagall guessed, and Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. Hermione shook her head and said,

"Actually, Headmistress, it's Professor Slughorn."

"Professor Slughorn," repeated McGonagall in disbelief. She glanced over her shoulder at the Potions Master, who merrily discussed something with Professor Sprout. McGonagall turned back to the girls and demanded, "What's he done wrong?"

"Well," said Ginny urgently, "He assigned us a potion called Draught of Magnes. It's a peace potion, but Hermione and I don't think it is a moral thing to assign, much less to give away to a student. After all, it causes people to act and think against their will, and we don't agree with that."

"Your brothers… may Fred rest in peace… thought nothing of selling love potions, Miss Weasley," McGonagall reminded Ginny, her thin brows arching. Ginny looked abashed and said,

"Well, I didn't agree with everything George and… and… _Fred…_ did. Ma'am."

Hermione's eyes burned a little as she thought about Fred. She shifted the conversation and said,

"Ginny and I burned our Burn Healing Gel into tar the other day in lessons, Professor McGonagall, because we were using a pewter cauldron. The potion requires a copper cauldron to be done properly."

"You girls want me to… to, what? Sack our Potions Master and find a new one? Because you disagree with his curriculum?" McGonagall shrugged. "What is the purpose of coming to me with this? I assume no harm has come to anyone from the Draught of Magnes - the worst I can imagine is a Slytherin and a Gryffindor finding themselves friends, and what would be the harm in that? As for the cauldrons, I think Professor Slughorn wanted to challenge you. It _is_ possible to brew Burn Healing Gel in a pewter cauldron, ladies; I did it myself during my NEWT year. I must say that I find your concerns just a tad frivolous."

"Frivolous?" burst Ginny, and McGonagall's face tightened. Ginny puffed a breath and said, "We're just worried someone's going to get hurt, Headmistress."

"I will hear no more of this, girls," said McGonagall. "If the worst your Potions Master is doing to you is assigning you peace potions and difficult gels, I must advise you to simply work harder and you'll find you achieve the marks you desire."

"This has nothing to do with marks, Headmistress!" Hermione cried, but McGonagall held a hand up and said,

"Professor Slughorn has been respected at this school for many decades. I will not discredit him now over Draught of Magness and Burn Healing Gel. Now, ladies, go eat your breakfast before you run out of time."

She turned around and marched off, and as she did, Hermione caught Lucius' eye. He frowned curiously at her, but Hermione just shook her head and said to Ginny,

"Well, that didn't go as I'd hoped."

* * *

Lucius received a letter that morning from Narcissa, but, as he'd promised his wife, he did not read it. He carried it with him, sealed with the Malfoy coat of arms in wax, up to the third floor and went into his office. He set the letter down on his desk and aimed his wand at it, and he hesitated. He nearly tore the letter open and read it, but instead he whispered,

" _Evanesco._ "

He watched the letter dissolve like salt in water, fading into the air and into Non-Being. He pinched his lips and heard students coming in downstairs, and he blinked a few times as he realised it was seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. He still couldn't make the students like him, which didn't affect him. The only one who affected him was Hermione Granger, and she did drive him somewhat insane.

The night before, he'd been lying in bed thinking about kissing her neck, thinking of her fingers grasping at his scalp, and he'd touched himself to completion. He hadn't been able to help himself; she'd made him wild with a desire he'd never actually felt towards a witch. He'd been faithful to Narcissa during their marriage, but they'd been an arranged couple and there had never been intense heat between them. Their lovemaking was mostly plain and unremarkable. Their kisses occasionally sparked a little reaction within Lucius' body, but everything had become routine after twenty-three years.

Lucius' spirit just didn't light on fire for Narcissa these days. In the wake of his Azkaban stint, he and Narcissa had been… well, cordial but distant. After their defection, they had clung emotionally to one another as refugees of sorts. But they'd stayed in their own bedrooms and had only really spoken at dinners. Once Lucius was informed by Kingsley Shacklebolt that he was to go to Hogwarts for the term, Narcissa had been despondent about losing her husband again. But Lucius had felt only mild discomfort about leaving his wife for so long. Why, he wondered now, had he and Narcissa drifted apart so thoroughly, even before the potion?

And now, with the potion, Lucius felt like he didn't know Narcissa at all. He felt like she was a stranger, the way she had gone storming into the Minister for Magic's office yelling that Shacklebolt was a Blood Traitor. Lucius felt like Narcissa had a bit of her sister Bellatrix's madness buried in her soul. She had that streak of Black wildness emerging, now that Draco and Astoria and Lucius had confronted her about Muggle-borns. She was like a cornered cat, hissing and spitting. And Lucius just couldn't live with that. Not with the Draught of Magnes. Perhaps once the antidote was complete, he and Narcissa would pair up again more easily.

And, of course, there was Hermione Granger.

Lucius sighed and made his way out of his office, walking down the steps and stalking to the chalkboard. His walking stick and boots clack-clack-clacked on the stone floor as he walked. The class went quiet as Lucius approached the board. He aimed his wand at the chalkboard and wrote,

_Protective Enchantments - Cave Inimicum, Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri… other examples?_

"Now," he said, turning to the class and avoiding Hermione's eyes, "There are many protective enchantments to guard a space. I have written the three best-known examples on the board, but there are many more. Some of you may have experience using them. More examples, if you please."

Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger immediately raised their hands. None of the Slytherins did, so Lucius just rolled his eyes a little and said in the most droll voice he could mustre,

"Miss Weasley."

"There are Security Spells and Muggle-Repelling Charms," she said, "and there's the Disillusionment Charm. You can also make something Unplottable."

"All fine examples of protection, especially of a space which must be kept Magical without Muggle interference. Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Weasley."

Ginny looked absolutely shocked at having received praise and points from Lucius Malfoy of all people. Hermione grinned, and the rest of the Gryffindors looked awfully pleased. Hermione raised her hand more eagerly than ever, and Lucius prompted,

"More examples, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked very serious as she said, "I have experience using these… in a frozen forest, hiding from Snatchers."

Lucius tightened his jaw and nodded. "Go ahead."

" _Protego Diabolica. Protego horribilis. Salvio hexia._ "

"I hope you are all writing all of these down," Lucius said, "as you'll be quizzed on them at the end of the week. Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Actually, erm… ten points. Five extra for having practical use of the spells."

The Slytherins looked enraged then, and one, a plump boy, flung his hand into the air. He was a Mulciber, and his father was in Azkaban these days. Lucius cleared his throat and said,

"Yes, Mr Mulciber?"

"Last year, in Hogsmeade and on the school grounds, the Carrows used Intruder Charms. The Caterwauling Charm, in particular."

"Yes, they did." Lucius huffed a breath. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. "That was… very wrong of them."

The young Mulciber looked furious, but Lucius carried on,

"You have all forgotten the most powerful and important Protective Enchantment of them all. The Fidelius Charm."

"I don't think all of us have forgotten the Fidelius Charm, sir," Hermione said without raising her hand. "It was meant to keep Lily and James Potter safe. Because the Secret-Keeper revealed the Potters' location, Harry Potter's parents were killed and he defeated Voldemort the first time."

"Right." Lucius didn't feel like granting points for that answer. He licked his lips and said, "Let's practise wand movements and incantations for the more basic enchantments we have discussed."

The rest of the lesson went well, and Lucius reminded himself that he wasn't such a bad teacher, after all. He did a good job conveying information to students. They learned from him. That was what a teacher was meant to achieve, and he was doing a fine job of it, he told himself. As the students packed up their bags and chatted among themselves, Lucius walked over to Hermione and muttered,

"A word after class, Miss Granger?"

She looked at him, her cheeks going red. "I've got the first exam of the term in Ancient Runes right after this, sir."

"Ah. Erm… come to my office at the end of your lessons today, then," Lucius said, and Hermione sucked in air. Ginny Weasley, beside her, pretended not to be listening. Hermione said softly,

"I'll be here, sir."

She turned to go then, walking out of the classroom with Ginny Weasley. Through the open doors, Lucius saw Hermione catch up with Luna Lovegood in the corridor, and his stomach lurched as he realised the blonde girl had been held hostage in his own home.

He spent the rest of the morning teaching Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws - first fifth-years, then third-years. He went to lunch and tried not to stare at Hermione. He eyed the students whom he knew were Muggle-borns, and he wondered distantly what their parents did for a living. Perhaps some of them were train engineers or black cab drivers. Perhaps some worked in offices. Were they really as inferior as Lucius had always thought? They were different. Their world was separate and completely unable to mesh with the Magical world. But did that mean they should die? Did it mean they should suffer? Or should they be left to live in contented ignorance of magic?

Lucius still couldn't wrap his head around marrying a Muggle. The idea of a witch or wizard falling in love with someone who could never fully understand magic was incomprehensible. But should it be illegal? Should it be publicly shamed? He really wasn't certain anymore.

He had seventh-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs after lunch, and Luna Lovegood earned Ravenclaw ten points by naming nearly every Protective Enchantment. That was Lucius' last lesson of the day, and he went back up to his office to wait. He sat at his desk and remembered how he'd Vanished Narcissa's letter. Should he have read it, he wondered? No, he thought. He had been right to Vanish it. There was knocking on his office door, and Lucius called,

"Enter."

The door swung open slowly, and Hermione Granger came walking inside. Evening light streamed through the windows of the round room, but it was still mostly bare in here. Hermione looked around and asked gently,

"Aren't you going to decorate it?"

"I thought not, but I'm open to suggestions," Lucius said. Hermione grinned and asked in a teasing voice,

"Do you trust me?"

"I never, ever thought I would trust you, Hermione Granger, but, yes, I trust you," Lucius said. Hermione laughed a little and shut the door. She aimed her wand at the window to the right of Lucius' desk. She waved it and incanted,

" _Aulaeum_. _Viridi Holoserica._ "

Green velvet curtains were Conjured and hung neatly around the window. Hermione repeated the step at each window, and then she aimed her wand at the floor and said stoutly,

" _Stragulum. Viridi Exemplaris._ "

A beautiful, Turkish-style rug appeared, round and encompassing most of the small circular office, appeared. Lucius raised his blond eyebrows and assured Hermione,

"I think you'll do just fine on your Transfigurations and Charms NEWTs."

She smiled broadly and tipped her chin up rather imperiously. "You called me here; you wanted to see me after class. Why, Professor Malfoy?"

"Why do you think?" He narrowed his eyes at her. He rapped his fingers on the desk and informed her, "I wanted you."

Hermione's eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Her cheeks pinked as she came walking around the desk.

"You…" She neared his chair, taking off her rucksack and setting it on the ground, and he rotated until he faced her. She let out a shaking breath and asked, "You wanted me?"

"Yes," he whispered. "I did. I do."

"Lucius," Hermione said, and he shut his eyes and shivered. His cock started to flush in the neat pinstriped trousers he wore beneath his woolen robe. He felt the pressure in his chest of arousal building, felt the coil of heat in his abdomen. He reached out and brushed his fingers over Hermione's, and he murmured,

"Say my name again, will you?"

"Lucius," she repeated. "Lucius, I've been wanting you all day."

"Oh." He opened his eyes and held up his other hand. He beckoned to Hermione with one finger and played with the fingers of her other hand. "Come here, Hermione."

She approached him and slowly put a knee on either side of Lucius' thighs. She lowered herself onto his lap, sinking down until the only thing separating them were his trousers and her knickers. He knew she could feel his erection. If she was repulsed, she didn't show it. On the contrary, she ground down onto him, lacing her arms around his shoulders. Hermione lowered her face towards Lucius' and brushed her lips against his, and he hummed onto her mouth,

"Yes, this is just fine."

"So it is," Hermione whispered. She kissed him then - _she_ kissed _him._ She brought his lip between her teeth and then swept her tongue into his mouth. He groaned a little and felt like he was on fire. His veins were hot and his stomach was fluttering. His cock was pressing up against Hermione's knickers, and he wanted nothing more right now than to jam his fingers into her and feel her wet and warm around him. But instead he rubbed at her bare thighs, his fingers trailing under her skirt and sliding up to her knickers. He toyed with the waistband, and Hermione sucked in air hard. She ground more fervently against Lucius' cock, rocking forward and down, up and back. She kept rocking, and Lucius was sure he was going to lose himself right there.

She kissed him again, this time moving her hands into his hair as she did. Her lips pressed hard against his and her tongue was eager as her fingernails traced through Lucius' tresses. He shuddered where he sat and squeezed at her hips under her skirt, his fingers digging into her flesh and his thumbs rubbing over her soft skin. Faster and faster she moved on him, her fingernails massaging his scalp and her mouth urging his to react. His cock throbbed and ached; he could feel himself about to spill. Everything was tightening; everything was winding up inside him like a violin string about to snap.

"Hermione," he mumbled against her mouth, and he used his hands to move her harder against his cock where he held her thighs. "Oh, Merlin. I'm going to -"

"Yes," Hermione panted, and in response, Lucius brushed his thumb over the crotch of her knickers and felt that they were soaked through. He grunted and she moaned against his mouth, and then -

And then there was knocking on the office door.

Hermione flung herself off of Lucius' lap and cleared her throat roughly, dragging her wrist over her swollen lips and staggering backward. She adjusted her school skirt and was scarlet-faced. Lucius felt his eyes go round as the full moon as he reeled where he sat. He had been right on the verge of climax; he and Hermione had almost…

Someone knocked again. Lucius shut his eyes and adjusted his chair until his exceedingly obvious erection was hidden. He dragged his fingers through his mussed hair and called out,

"One moment." He turned to Hermione and said tightly, "We'll talk again soon, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione whispered. She headed for the door and put her rucksack back over her shoulder. She opened the door and stood face-to-face with a third-year Hufflepuff, a freckle-faced girl called Maeven House. Maeven surveyed Hermione and then asked,

"Am I interrupting a meeting? I just had a quick question."

"I've just finished asking Professor Malfoy a question of my own," Hermione said very tightly. "Good to see you, Maeven."

"You, too, Hermione," said the girl. She walked past Hermione, who rushed out of the office and pattered down the stairs. Maeven House left the office door open and said,

"Professor Malfoy, I just have a question about Boggarts, if you have a moment."

By now, Lucius was utterly snuffed out, as though all the frenetic energy he and Hermione had built up had been actively sucked out of the office. He coughed quietly and told Maeven,

"Go ahead."

"I was just wondering, sir," Maeven said, "Whether Boggarts are classified as Beasts or Beings."

Lucius' mouth fell open. _This_ was what he and Hermione had been interrupted for? His luscious encounter with Hermione had been rudely interrupted for _this?_

"As I stated in lessons, Miss House," Lucius said icily, "Boggarts are Non-Human Spiritous Apparitions, classed as Non-Beings. Anything else?"

"Oh, right. I couldn't find the answer in the text. I must have missed it in note-taking. Sorry. Thank you, sir." Maeven House bowed her head and then turned to go, and Lucius angrily called after her,

"Miss House, next time try a peer first."

"Yes, sir," said Maeven, smiling dully. Lucius watched her go, and he buried his face in his hands once he was alone. He thought of Hermione, wanting her more ferociously than ever, hating her less than ever. He looked at the portrait of himself, Draco, and Narcissa on his desk, and he sighed. He flipped the portrait until it was face-down on the desk, and he shut his eyes.

**Notes: Anyone else feeling nasty things towards the poor little Hufflepuff with the dumb question? Haha. But things got pretty steamy between Hermione and Lucius - this was more than just kissing. Seems like McGonagall isn't going to address the Slughorn problem. It would really suck if anything else happened with that guy, right?**

**Right?**

**As always, thanks so much for reading. PLEASE REVIEW.**


	10. So Many Mistakes

"Have you heard? Oh, my goodness. It's just too -" Ginny came blustering into the seventh-year girls' dormitory and put her hands on her ginger hair. Hermione scowled and whirled around, already in her pyjamas as she asked,

"What's happened?"

"It's Slughorn!" Ginny exclaimed. "I just - I was -"

"Slow down." Hermione rushed over to Ginny and put her hands on the girl's elbows. She stared Ginny in the eye as Sophie Roper and the other girls waited curiously behind her. "What's happened, Ginny?"

"I was finishing my Prefect rounds," Ginny said, "and I saw them rushing Professor Slughorn into the Hospital Wing on a stretcher. They wouldn't let me through. They were saying quietly that they hoped he _made it._ "

Ginny looked terribly distressed, and Hermione felt her own eyes go very wide as she dashed back over to her wardrobe. She stripped off her pyjamas and began dressing in her uniform again.

"What are you doing?" Sophie asked. Hermione did up her tie and mumbled,

"I'm Head Girl. They'll have to tell me something. I'll go investigate. Be back soon."

She grabbed her wand and hustled out of the dormitory, going down the stairs into the Gryffindor Common Room and brushing past two second-years who were talking at a table.

"Off to bed," Hermione snapped at them as she passed. They groaned but started packing up their bags. Hermione had no time to police them. She went out through the Fat Lady's portrait hole and descended Gryffindor Tower. By the time she made her way all the way to the Hospital Wing, she was completely out of breath and her stomach ached from exertion.

Lucius Malfoy was standing with several other teachers outside the Hospital Wing, and when they heard Hermione approaching, they all turned to look at her. Lucius' lips were planted into a thin line, and he said tightly,

"Miss Granger."

"What's happened to Professor Slughorn?" Hermione asked without pretense. Professor Sprout insisted,

"My dear, we know little more than you do, I'm afraid. All we know is that his cauldron blew up whilst he was brewing something this evening."

Hermione's gaze landed on Lucius, but he looked away. They both knew what had happened. Slughorn had had an accident brewing the antidote for the Draught of Magnes. Hermione seethed through clenched teeth and asked,

"Will he be all right?"

"He's far from _all right_ ," Professor Sinistra said, and Hagrid chimed in,

"Burned his whole front side of himself, he did. From head to toe, scalded himself. Madam Pomfrey's attending to the burns, and they're gonna get somebody from St Mungo's here to transfer him."

"My goodness." Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, and then Professor Sprout said,

"This is not to be taken lightly. It is not clear at this moment whether or not Professor Slughorn will… will…"

_Live._ Hermione shut her eyes and felt them sear hot.

"Surely the Healers will make him well again," she said quietly, but there was no response. When she opened her eyes, the professors were all eyeing one another and then her. Lucius Malfoy finally said,

"It is not clear at the present time whether or not Horace will emerge from this. His injuries are grave."

"Let us all pour our souls into thoughts for him," said Professor Sinistra. "This is a dark moment for Hogwarts."

Hermione thought there had been many dark moments for Hogwarts in the years she'd been studying there. She sighed and asked Lucius,

"Please, Professor Malfoy, will you update me tomorrow in lessons?"

"I expect the Headmistress will make an announcement at breakfast," said Professor Sprout. She stared between Lucius and Hermione curiously, as though perplexed by the somewhat amiable nature between them. Hermione nodded and turned to go back to her dormitory, feeling like she was going to be sick.

* * *

"Horace Slughorn is dead."

Lucius' jaw dropped as Minerva McGonagall stared at him across her desk in her office. It was four o'clock in the morning; the Healers had been working on Slughorn for many hours at this point. Lucius cleared his throat and asked,

"When?"

"A half hour ago, he passed," McGonagall said, tearing up. She shook her head and said, "It isn't clear what he was brewing. It burned into a dark slime. If we had Severus here, or Albus, I'm sure they could make heads and tails of it. Horace was adding Erumpent Horn to the potion when it exploded; we found the half-ground horn on the floor beside his grater."

Lucius huffed a breath and asked carefully, "Did he die with much suffering?"

"He was in… quite a bit of pain," McGonagall whispered. She touched at her lips, her cheeks going red as she began to cry. "Oh, Horace. You bleeding fool, blowing up a potion."

"It could have happened to anyone," Lucius said, "if it could happen to a seasoned Potions Master like Horace Slughorn."

"This will be immensely traumatising for the students. I don't think I need to explain why classes will be cancelled for the week," McGonagall said. Lucius shook his head. McGonagall informed him, "There will be logistics to emerge from this. Students will need Potions lessons after next week, but our teacher has been tragically killed. We will need a replacement instructor."

"Yes. It seems as though you do need someone to take Horace's place, when the time is right," Lucius said, and McGonagall gave him a weighty look.

"Your son was always a superb Potions student. Even last year, when the school was under… terrible management… Draco created reliable potion after reliable potion."

"You're suggesting that I bring my son here to teach Potions?" Lucius felt surprise rock him and raised his brows. "He's rather busy wooing Astoria Greengrass."

"I'm certain Draco would accept the position on a short-term basis, like you accepted yours," McGonagall said. She wasn't crying anymore. Lucius pinched his lips and said,

"I am only here because Kingsley Shacklebolt insisted I come."

"I think if I wrote to Kingsley and suggested that Draco would make a fine Potions instructor, he might insist again," McGonagall said smoothly. Lucius shook his head wildly.

"No. No, I'm afraid not. You'll have to find someone else. I will not allow my son to be forced to teach classrooms full of students who despise him."

"You speak from personal experience," McGonagall said, tipping her head.

"I do," Lucius nodded, "and I won't drag Draco into all that. I won't let it happen to him."

"Very well," McGonagall scoffed. "We'll find someone else, then. But first, there are matters to attend to as regards Horace. He'll need a proper funeral, and though that will be handled by his family, we'll need to hold a memorial service for him here at the school. I expect you to be sufficiently aggrieved, Mr Malfoy."

"Why would I not be?" Lucius shrugged and coughed an annoyed sound. "I do not appreciate the accusation that I am… _insufficiently aggrieved…_ by the death of a fellow teacher, a fellow Slytherin, and a man who has been respected in the wizarding community for many decades. Headmistress, might I advise some Draught of Magnes between you and I? The sense of hatred I feel radiating from you to me is rather… well. It's a bit much."

"I have not forgotten the things you did," McGonagall trilled, "the people you hurt. What do you know about the Draught of Magnes, anyway?"

Lucius blinked slowly and sighed. "I know," he said, "that Horace Slughorn assigned it to his seventh-years. I know he gave vials to students earning perfect marks. And I strongly suspect that he died brewing the antidote to the potion."

"Antidote." McGonagall looked shocked. "Why would Horace be brewing an antidote to Draught of Magnes?"

"Because," Lucius murmured carefully, brushing his thumb over his walking stick and gulping, "A vial of Draught of Magnes was spilled on a corridor floor, and two people who once despised one another now find themselves… surprisingly cordial."

McGonagall stared. "You and Miss Granger?"

"Horace agreed to brew the antidote," Lucius said, "though it would take six months."

"Well, I think we can all agree now that an antidote is entirely out of the question!" exclaimed McGonagall. She looked enraged. "Obviously, it is much too dangerous to brew, and, anyway, why would you _want_ to continue hating someone?"

"Believe it or not, Headmistress, I stopped wanting the antidote a while ago," Lucius said. "I was actually on the verge of telling Horace to stop brewing it, that it wasn't needed. I… I admit that my feelings towards Muggle-borns and even Muggles have shifted a great deal since being exposed to the potion, and I am not entirely anxious to reverse the effects."

McGonagall's eyes were so wide they looked like they'd pop straight out of her skull. She shook her head in disbelief and asked,

"Miss Granger? What does she think about all of this?"

"In typical fashion for Miss Granger," said Lucius, "she is entirely principled about the whole thing. She believes that peace potions, much like love potions, are immoral because they strip people of the ability to make decisions entirely of their own volition. She believes that the Draught of Magnes is masking true emotion, and she dislikes the sensation of being tricked."

"Well. If she truly wants to reverse the potion, I suppose she is entitled to its antidote," said McGonagall in a resigned voice. She sat in her chair and folded her hands on her desk. "But she won't be getting it from Horace Slughorn. What an accident. To be brewing the antidote to the very potion the girls came to me to complain about…"

"Girls?" Lucius was confused. McGonagall pursed her lips and admitted,

"Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger came to me to report that Horace Slughorn had assigned Draught of Magnes. They were also concerned about having burnt a potion in a pewter cauldron when copper was needed. Anyway… I told them the Draught of Magnes was not anything to be bothered about. Obviously, I was wrong. I didn't listen to their concerns properly, and I did not realize that Miss Granger had already been exposed."

"For the price of eighty Galleons, which I am more than willing to pay myself," Lucius began, "there can be had a vial of the antidote. Young's Potioneers in Wales are willing to provide it. It will take six months, of course. We can only hope they'll be more careful… erm… lucky… than Horace was."

"You'll write to them, then?" McGonagall asked. "To Young's Potioneers to request the antidote?"

"I'll send an owl in ten minutes' time," Lucius said. McGonagall nodded.

"In the meantime, try to remember, Mr Malfoy, that _not_ despising Muggle-borns is actually the correct way to feel. My hope for you, sir, is that after you take the antidote to the Draught of Magnes, you may have learnt something permanent."

"As I said, Headmistress, I would gladly go without the antidote," Lucius reminded her. "I'll only take it because Hermione… Miss Granger… feels mentally trapped by it. I don't want her to be uncomfortable, so…"

"My goodness," McGonagall nodded. "It really has that sort of effect, then. Right. Well, I shall see you in a few hours, when I shall need to announce Horace's death to the school. Go get what rest you can. But first, send away for that antidote."

"Headmistress." Lucius bowed his head and turned, stalking out of McGonagall's office.

* * *

Lucius stared at the portrait of his family on his desk and considered that Horace Slughorn was now underground. They'd held the memorial for him today, a day with cancelled classes, and many words had been spoken about what a great man, a great teacher, and a great Potioneer Horace Slughorn was. Lucius couldn't help but feel partially responsible for Horace's death, even if it was likely that some carelessness had factored into the man's demise. The antidote for Draught of Magnes was incredibly difficult to brew, but Slughorn was meant to be a master of Potions. He'd made some mistake, and he'd paid the ultimate price.

Wagner Schmidt, a German wizard who had attended Durmstrang and had been one of Grindelwald's fiercest opponents decades earlier, had been brought in as the new Potions Master. He was wizened and stooped, his accent thick. But he had already rearranged the Potions classroom to neaten and declutter it in preparation for the lessons he was more than willing to teach the students of Hogwarts. He would be going by _Herr Schmidt_ to the students, he'd told Lucius at dinner the night before. He was German, he'd joked, and there was nothing he could do about that.

Lucius had sent an owl to Young's Potioneers in Wales along with a forty Galleon deposit for the antidote. He'd received a letter back stating that they would begin work immediately. It would still take six months for the antidote to brew, but at least the process had begun. In the meantime, Lucius had received three letters from Narcissa, and he'd only opened one. He'd considered Vanishing all of them, but one had looked like it had been addressed with a shaking hand. His name had been practically scribbled onto the envelope, and so he'd opened it. It had been a rambling letter clearly written by someone drunk or exhausted.. Narcissa missed Lucius and wanted him to see reason about Muggle-borns. He'd been corrupted by forces at Hogwarts, Narcissa had declared, and he needed to resign and come home to Malfoy Manor. Lucius had written back that he would see Narcissa and Draco at Christmas and instructed her not to write again.

He jolted away from the photograph on his desk as knocking sounded on his office door. Curious, Lucius stood from his chair and walked around the desk, his boots padding on the rug Hermione had Conjured for him. He opened the office door and saw her - _her_ \- standing there before him, looking sorrowful.

"We killed him," she said simply. Lucius sighed and beckoned for Hermione to come into the office.

"He is the one who assigned the Draught of Magnes to you," Lucius pointed out. "He is the one who was responsible for an antidote once the potion was used. And he obviously made some sort of terrible mistake. Neither you nor I killed him, Hermione. He died. It was an accident. He died brewing the fix to his own error. So many mistakes, Hermione, that Horace Slughorn made."

"Still," she whispered, "I feel responsible."

"I… yes, I understand." Lucius huffed a breath and put his hands on either side of Hermione's face. For a long moment, he just stood there holding her, cradling her jaws in his palms as he realised it had been days now since they'd touched. He remembered the way things had almost gone out of control in here before, and he shook his head a little. He still wanted her, so very badly. Why shouldn't he have her, he wondered? He was a married wizard, but Narcissa was acting terribly right now, and Lucius couldn't help the way his body craved Hermione's. He wasn't even certain he'd be able to control himself, even if he'd wanted to. He bent and kissed her lips, softly, once and then again. Hermione breathed slowly, steadily, and whispered onto his lips,

"It doesn't feel like enough, does it? Kissing."  
"No." Lucius licked a little at her bottom lip and agreed, "It doesn't feel like enough."

"I'm… a virgin, though," Hermione admitted. Lucius froze. He pulled back and squeezed at Hermione's cheeks just a little.

"I wasn't suggesting _that_ ," Lucius said. Hermione's lips formed a little _O_ and her cheeks flushed hot beneath Lucius' hands.

"I'm sorry; I… I thought you wanted me," Hermione said, and Lucius scoffed.

"I do, you silly girl. But we mustn't do _that_. I'm your teacher. You are my student. And we were enemies. And I am married."

"You put that one last," Hermione noted. She stared up at Lucius and said sadly, "I've come between a husband and wife. And Slughorn's dead because of the antidote. Everything is my fault."

"No. No, Hermione." Lucius sank his fingers into her hair and kissed her hard. She didn't kiss back, though, and Lucius felt desperate for a moment. He tried kissing her again, but Hermione pulled back a little and murmured,

"You need to make things right with Mrs Malfoy."

"How? By convincing her that Muggle-borns are worthy of a place in society? She doesn't believe it, Hermione."

"Neither do you," Hermione whispered. Lucius yanked himself back a step and pronounced,

"I _do_ believe it. I believe that you're the most qualified witch of your age. You could be the Minister for Magic someday, Hermione Granger, with that mind of yours. And you're Muggle-born."

Hermione shut her eyes tightly and said in a helpless voice, "You didn't believe any of that until you were dosed with a potion to make you stop hating me."

"I do not want to hate you," Lucius snarled. "I want… I want…"

"What?" Hermione tossed her hands up and looked like she was going to cry. "What do you want, Lucius?"

"I want you," he said, so quietly he almost couldn't hear himself. He breathed the words again, just a little more loudly this time. "I want _you_ , Hermione Granger."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "You're my teacher, and we were enemies, and you're a married man."

"Somehow, when I really stop to think about it," Lucius said, "none of that matters. Not with you."

"We're poisoned. You said it yourself," Hermione told him. "We've been poisoned."

"Has someone who's used Felix Felicis been poisoned?" Lucius demanded. "Someone who's used Invigoration Draught to wake up after a night of restless sleep, have they been poisoned? No. I was wrong to use that word. Draught of Magnes is not a poison, Hermione. It is a gift."

"You don't sound like the Lucius Malfoy who let me get tortured in his own home," Hermione said through tears. She shrugged and said, "You sound like… it's so complicated, because I want you, too."

He walked up to her and wrapped one arm around her, putting it to the small of her back. He bent and kissed her forehead, and he muttered,

"Come to my quarters after you've finished your rounds tonight. Tell your friends you're sneaking off to the library for some late-night reading, and come to my quarters. It's here, next to Classroom 3C, the next door over."

"I'll be seen," Hermione hissed furtively. "Ginny will know something's up."

"Just come," Lucius pleaded. "I am tired of all the games."

Hermione gnawed her lip but finally said, "All right. I'll come. After rounds."

"I'll be waiting," Lucius said softly, and he bent to kiss her lips gently again. She pulled back and went to the door, and as she did, Lucius told her again, "It isn't your fault, Hermione. None of it is your fault."

She smiled weakly at him and opened the door, pulling it shut behind her and disappearing.

**Notes: Oh, no! Slughorn is dead! There's tension about the antidote! McGonagall knows! And, of course, we very obviously have an interesting chapter coming up here. ;) Hope a few of you are excited about what's to come.**

**Thank you for reading and especially for reviewing.**


	11. To Be Touched

There were four soft knocks upon his door at eleven o'clock sharp.

Lucius licked his lips and tried to catch his breath. This was wrong, he told himself. He was her teacher. He was a married man. There was a yawning gap of twenty-five years between them. And they had been enemies. They had loathed one another for ages.

But he didn't loathe her now, not even a little bit. He couldn't bring himself to do anything but want her. As he approached his door, his heart hammered a frantic tattoo in his chest. His breath hitched in his lungs, and his skin prickled. He finally closed his fingers around the doorknob and paused just a moment. Should he let her in? Should he actually proceed? He shouldn't.

He did. He opened the door, and Hermione stood before him in her school uniform, looking too innocent, looking too young. She was beautiful, Lucius thought. She had frizzled hair that burst from her head in wild kinks. She had freckles spattered across her nose and cheeks. She had wide chestnut eyes that gleamed in the firelight from the wall sconces. Lucius gulped and silently stood aside, and Hermione seemed to steel herself as she walked into Lucius' chambers. He walked with her through the narrow corridor that led to his bedchamber, and once they were in there, he cleared his throat and said softly,

"I'm glad you've come."

"I'm… I never expected to be here," Hermione admitted. She stared at Lucius and then suddenly pulled back the sleeve of her robe and jumper. There, upon her milky flesh, was the seared insult Bellatrix had put on Hermione's body with torture.

_Mudblood._

"Why am I able to forgive this?" Hermione asked, seemingly more to herself than to Lucius. "And, more than that, why do I want you so badly? It's this potion. But I don't want the antidote, either, Lucius. I don't want to go back to hating you. I didn't enjoy hating you, but I enjoy… _this._ "

She gestured between the two of them, and Lucius swallowed past the thickness that had erupted in his throat. He shook his head a little and said,

"I never expected… _this._ "

"You expected something," Hermione noted, looking him up and down. "You're in pyjamas."

He cocked a brow. "It's late."

"And I'm your pupil, come to your chambers," Hermione added. "So why not be in pyjamas?"

He glanced down at the green velvet dressing-gown he wore over black silk pyjamas, and he whispered,

"Perhaps I was expecting something."

"Well, I have to tell you," Hermione said softly, "that I won't be losing my virginity tonight."

"Ah." Lucius swallowed hard again. He outwardly contained his disappointment, but internally he protested, for he'd been looking forward to entering her delicious body. He couldn't help himself. It was what he wanted.

"I want to lose my virginity to you _after_ we have had the antidote," Hermione said stoutly. Lucius sighed and nodded.

"Mmm. I… am not certain whether or not that will happen, Hermione."

"I know," she agreed, "and that's why those are my conditions. I don't want to give myself wholly and completely to a man who hated me until he breathed the vapours of Draught of Magnes. If you take the antidote and hate me again, I will regret ever touching you. I can't… I can't give you _everything_ of my body when we aren't fully in control of ourselves."

"I understand," Lucius said, and he genuinely did. It made sense, what she was saying. Of course she wouldn't want to lose her virginity to a man who had let her be tortured in his home unless she was sure they were really and truly no longer enemies. Lucius huffed a breath and said softly,

"Goodnight, then."

"I said I wasn't going to lose my virginity," Hermione reminded him. "I did not say I was leaving."

"Oh?" Lucius smirked. "What exactly did you have in mind, Miss Granger?"

"I think," she said, lowering her eyes, "that if all I do is touch you, and we come out of this Draught of Magnes enemies again, I won't hate myself for it. If all I do is touch you, it won't feel like an irreversible…"

"Mistake," Lucius finished for her, and Hermione huffed.

"Right."

"Well," said Lucius slickly, "I certainly won't object to being… touched."

"I've never seen a wizard's body," Hermione said a bit self-consciously. "Not really."

"In person, you mean," Lucius said, raising his eyebrows. "You're more sheltered than I'd thought."

_Younger than I should be allowing,_ he thought. _Too innocent for a villain like me._

"Well," he said, "allow me to introduce you to the idea of a wizard's body. I will gladly take off this dressing gown and these pyjamas, if you wish."

"Yes, please." Hermione's voice was very soft then. Her pale cheeks went rosy, and her eyes widened. She took a step toward Lucius and whispered, "Will you let me do it?"

"Take it all off? Hmm. Yes. I think that would be fine," Lucius agreed. Suddenly she reached for the tie around his waist, and his breath hitched. He wet his bottom lip and felt a prickle of want shoot up his spine. He felt blood rush between his legs as Hermione untied the sash and pushed open his dressing gown. He shucked it, and it fell in a heavy velvet pile to the floor. Her lean, long fingers went to the pearlescent buttons of his silk pyjamas then, and he covered her hands as he murmured,

"If you don't want it…"

"I want it," Hermione answered. She began to unbutton the silk shirt, and he could see that her fingers were trembling terribly. He moved his own hands to her face and cradled her jaws in his palms as he informed her, quite against his nature,

"You are a beautiful witch, Hermione Granger."

She scoffed as she moved to the third button. "Ha. Beautiful. You're only saying that because you're drugged by a potion."

"Actually," Lucius said calmly, "I don't think I am. I suspect, Miss Granger, that the physical attraction between us is more genuine than we've given it credit for being."

"It's just the potion," Hermione said furtively, undoing the fifth button. Lucius took a heaving breath, his chest rising and falling heavily as he told her again,

"I think it's real."

"What makes you say that?" She stopped unbuttoning then and raised her chestnut eyes to him. He stared down at her and remembered the last time he'd seen her before term, at the Battle of Hogwarts. She'd been covered in filth and had been scraped and banged up, but even then, she'd been pretty. He hadn't thought much about it at the time, but now that he didn't hate her, he could see more clearly. She'd always been pretty, ever since she grew into being an adult witch with curves and angles.

"I don't think I could see it properly before," Lucius said, "but I see it now. How beautiful you are. There's no denying it. Your eyes… your lips."

He bent and kissed her very gently then, touching his mouth to hers once, twice, three times before whispering against her,

"The shape of you."

He slid one hand beneath her black school robe and urged her jumper up. Through the thin material of the white shirt she wore beneath, he planted his hand on her ribcage and felt the heat of her flesh. He groaned softly at that, his prick flushing so hard it ached and tented his pyjama trousers. He slid the fingers of his other hand into Hermione's wild hair and brushed his lips against her cheek. He whispered into her ear,

"Delicious. Every inch of you is delicious."

"Lucius." Hermione undid the last two buttons of his shirt and pushed it away, and he released her to shimmy out of the shirt. It slipped to the ground in a silent cascade, and then he was bare-chested before her. She stared in awe as she dragged her fingers around his hard pectorals, his solid, flat stomach. He was rather proud of his body; he worked diligently doing push-ups, sit-ups, and squats every morning before bathing. He was in his forties, but he'd kept himself hard and lean. Even in Azkaban, he'd spent at least an hour of every day working his muscles to keep them taut and built.

Hermione certainly seemed to notice, and to enjoy the look of him. Narcissa had never mentioned Lucius' tone, or the way he worked so hard to maintain himself. She'd only ever chastised him for making them run late to something because he'd been working out and then bathing. But Hermione slid her hands over Lucius' shoulders and biceps and noted,

"You must do a lot of work… to look like this."

Lucius shrugged and cocked a brow. "I'm a vain wizard, Hermione."

"Well… erm… you're very handsome," she informed him. Her eyes trailed lower, to where his cock was pushing at the fabric of his pyjama trousers, and she looked like a starving woman all of a sudden. She just gaped at the evidence of his erection, and she murmured, "I do want to see. And to touch you."

"Then I suggest you rid me of these trousers, Miss Granger," Lucius said slyly. Hermione hooked her fingers into the waistband of the trousers and pulled at them, yanking open the bow-tied ribbon at the front. She pushed the trousers down, and she seemed surprised that Lucius wore no underwear. He sprang forth, long and thick and throbbing for want of her. She just gaped at him, at his manhood, as he kicked away the trousers and let his cock proudly jut out at attention.

"Well?" Lucius prodded. "What's the verdict?"

"It's…" Hermione reached for him and wrapped her hand tentatively around the base of his shaft. Lucius hissed a little and tipped his head back, rolling his neck out a bit. Hermione stroked, applying just enough pressure to feel good, and Lucius sank his teeth into his lip. Hermione said seriously, "It's incredibly erotic is what it is."

Lucius laughed a little and reached for her face. He bent and kissed her again, more firmly this time, and he whispered, "Bed?"

"I suppose," Hermione said cautiously. Lucius guided her over to the bed and encouraged her to follow him up. He lay on his back and let her arrange herself between his knees. She pulled her wand out of the holster beneath her school robe, and she aimed it at his cock. Lucius felt his gaze go wide with horror as he wondered what she meant to do to him, but then she said confidently, " _Lubrico._ "

Lucius practically cackled then as she tucked her wand away. "How did a good little girl like you learn that wizards like that spell so much?"

"I read a lot," Hermione muttered. Lucius' smirk faded a little as Hermione wrapped her hand around his cock again and began to stroke. Her other hand weighed Lucius' balls very carefully, considerately, and it felt delectable. She wasn't squeezing or hurting, but the little bit of pressure on his balls felt so good that they tightened up against Lucius' body. His hands sank into the covers on the four-poster bed, his fingers cinching at the blanket. Hermione knelt between his legs and stared down at him, her eyes locked on his as she began twisting her hand with every pump. She focused on his tip for a long moment, until it became so sensitised that Lucius shook his head and whimpered rather desperately,

"Too much."

"Sorry," Hermione murmured. She stroked again in long, smooth motions and palmed his tip every time she reached the top. Her other hand moved from his balls to the inside of his thigh, and she scratched extremely gently at the skin there. Lucius groaned and arched his back a little, telling her,

"I'm an old man, Hermione, but you'll make me finish like a schoolboy."

"I don't know the difference," Hermione admitted, "except that you seem to be enjoying this rather a lot."

She was _teasing_ him. Lucius glared at her and seethed, "Well, you've got your hands on me in just the right way, Miss Granger, so, yes, I am enjoying it."

"Well, good," she huffed. She sped up her stroking, and Lucius shut his eyes as he felt his climax barrelling towards him like a train. Everything went hot and white inside his skull. Everything was tightening. Her hand was back on his balls, which had gone taut and warm. Her other hand twisted along his slick shaft; her thumb toyed with the skin beneath his tip and played around the ridge. He felt her glide her middle finger from the base of his shaft all the way up the vein to the tip and back down again, and then she was squeezing just right at the base of his cock, and he was lost.

"Hermione," he said through clenched teeth. "Oh. Merlin's beard, Hermione."

His cum exploded from his cock then, in a way that it hadn't done in years. In decades of touching himself, in years of sex with Narcissa, he had never felt his climax burst forth like this. The power behind the jets of cum made him dizzy, but he forced his eyes open to see that it had splattered all over the chest of Hermione's jumper. He shuddered at the sight of that, at the visual of her hand covered in creamy seed, and he whispered,

"Oh. Oh."

She was red-cheeked and panting, and she blinked a few times as she pulled her hands off of him. She stared at the hand that was covered in his cum, as if examining a specimen. She parted her fingers and let it dribble down her hand toward her wrist, and she seemed completely awed. She looked down at Lucius and said,

"I was wrong."

He felt like cold water had been poured over his head, and he gulped. "What do you mean? Wrong to do this?"

"No. Wrong about… I don't think I'd regret it. Being with you. Even if you wind up hating me in a few months. I think… this is mostly real. This."

She used her other hand to gesture between the two of them, and she whispered,

"I don't feel poisoned."

"You may want to clean yourself up, at least," Lucius grunted, making a move to sit up from where he lay. Hermione pulled out her wand and used her clean hand to aim it, casting _Tergeo_ and _Scourgify_ until her hand and jumper were clean. She graciously cleaned up Lucius, too, and he stared up at her as his cock softened and flopped over onto his thigh. Hermione glided her hands around his chest again, around the dusting of hair at his sternum, and she seemed to be examining the silky blond hair on his head.

"You're my teacher," she reminded him. "You're a married man. And we were enemies."

" _Hostis amica mea est,_ " Lucius told her. He slipped his hands up her thighs, and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Do you want me to touch you?" he asked quietly, and Hermione shook her head.

"Not tonight. If I stay any longer, the Fat Lady will rat me out to Professor McGonagall."

"Some other time, then," Lucius said, somewhat firmly. Hermione smiled a little and nodded.

"Some other time."

They made their way off the bed, and as Lucius pulled on his pyjamas again, he felt oddly self-conscious. She'd made him cum. She'd made him cum so hard he hadn't been able to think or breathe properly. But he'd let her be tortured in his home. He'd encouraged his son to call her a _Mudblood._ He'd been a Death Eater and she'd been… but none of that mattered now, did it? All that mattered was how she made him feel right this moment.

He thought of Narcissa, of how his wife had hotly invaded the Minister for Magic's office, shrieking that Lucius was being manipulated at Hogwarts. She wasn't entirely wrong, was she? Lucius gulped.

"I don't want to take the antidote," he told Hermione. "I don't want to find out… I don't want _this_ to…"

"Lucius." Hermione put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him down, encouraging him to kiss her. She did, and when he pulled away just a little, Hermione mumbled, "If it's real, it'll still be there. If it isn't real, we both deserve to know. We need to take the antidote."

"Fine." Lucius swallowed past the knot in his throat and kissed Hermione more gently. He murmured against her lips, "Another time, in the not very distant future, I am going to make you writhe with pleasure, Miss Granger."

She laughed softly and whispered, "I have no doubt of your abilities, Professor Malfoy."

She pulled away from him and turned to go, stalking quickly towards the door of Lucius' rooms and slipping out into the corridor.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Lucius received two letters. One had his name on it in what was clearly Narcissa's script. The other was addressed to _Mister Lucius Malfoy, Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._ Lucius curiously eyed the letter and then set it aside, attending to Narcissa's letter first. He'd committed to not opening letters from her, but he couldn't help himself right now. He bit his lip hard as he broke the Malfoy seal and pulled out the letter from inside the envelope. His breath shook a little as he unfurled the tri-folded letter and began to read Narcissa's neat, tight script.

_Dear Lucius,_

_Draco has informed me that you wrote to him fully agreeing with his views about Mudbloods. I feel as though my entire family has betrayed me. I shall be returning to the Black family estate to live with my parents, and Draco may have Malfoy Manor. As for you, I must say that I do not much care what you choose to do. You and I were once like one. Now I feel that I do not know my husband. He defends Blood Traitors and Mudbloods. He has abandoned me to teach at Hogwarts in a deal struck with Kingsley Shacklebolt. I am alone. I will go to my parents' to be a member of the House of Black once more. As their only remaining daughter, they will cherish my company much more than either you or Draco will in future, I am sure._

_I am sorry that things between us are so sour, that wickedness has consumed you and dissolved the love between us. When we defected, I did not intend on us honouring the morality of our enemies. I did not intend on becoming Blood Traitors, but that is what you are now, in my view. You are a traitor to your name, to your wife, and to your blood._

_May you be happy in the life you have chosen._

_Narcissa Black_

Lucius read the letter five times and then flicked his eyes down to Hermione. She was animatedly speaking with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, who had come up behind the Gryffindor table. The girls all laughed about something, and then Luna Lovegood waved and walked away. Hermione and Ginny kept talking, and Hermione didn't seem to feel Lucius' eyes on her at all. He read the letter from Narcissa again and felt his stomach sink. He felt queasy as he shut his eyes and thought of all the happiness he and Narcissa had shared.

He opened the other letter, the one with the mysterious and complex addressing on the front. He examined the seal on the back and read the stamped words _Young's Potioneers._ He swallowed thickly and opened the envelope, pulling out the card inside. Written with a flourish were the words,

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

_We have managed to procure a completed antidote to Draught of Magnes from a potions supplier in Italy. If you wish to purchase the antidote, the remaining balance is one hundred Galleons. Otherwise, we will continue brewing your antidote here. Please notify us and send funds if you wish to receive the completed antidote straight away._

_Warm regards,_

_Young's Potioneers_

Lucius gaped at the letter. He tossed back his chair and flew to his feet, snatching both letters and stalking away from the Head Table. As he walked quickly out of the Great Hall, he eyed Hermione and saw her curiously taking in the sight of him fleeing. He nodded, and she surreptitiously grabbed her bag. He kept walking, and it wasn't until he was already to the Owlery that he heard a breathless voice from behind him ask,

"What's going on?"

Lucius turned his head away from the letter he was writing, gripping a bag of Galleons tightly in his left fist. He met Hermione's eyes, and, feeling his own sear just a little, he informed her,

"The antidote is ready."

**Notes: Thank you SO MUCH for your patience in dealing with the accidental removals of this story as well as the delay in updating. I promise to be back on a very regular update schedule from now on. Thank you so much for reading. Please do review. I really appreciate any and all feedback.**


	12. The Truth

Hermione lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling. She blinked, and a solitary tear wormed its way down her cheek. Hermione swiped angrily at it and sniffled. In her mind, she was dropping purple liquid on her tongue, and a moment later, she was an enemy of Lucius Malfoy all over again.

She'd told Ginny about the antidote. Ginny had been immensely relieved that the antidote was available, that Hermione didn't have to wait six months to take it. It was a miracle, Ginny had said, that the potions shop had been able to obtain the finished product. And Lucius was willing to pay for it, which endeared him to Ginny just the tiniest bit. Ginny made no bones about the fact that she still personally hated Lucius Malfoy, and she assured Hermione that, soon enough, Hermione would, too.

Hermione clutched at her blankets and thought of so much, there in her bed after her conversation with Ginny. She thought about how Horace Slughorn had died attempting to brew the antidote. She imagined Slughorn, burned from head to toe after his cauldron exploded. She remembered the crowd outside Madam Pomfrey's office saying they weren't certain Slughorn would make it, the way Lucius and Hermione had met eyes because they both knew exactly what had happened.

Hermione thought about Narcissa. She was a Blood Purist, and she was bigoted and wicked. But she was Lucius' wife, and when Lucius had kissed and touched Hermione and let her touch him, he had cheated on Narcissa. He was an adulterer, Hermione thought, and Hermione played half of the part in that. She was just as responsible for the pain Narcissa would feel as Lucius was. She was just as culpable in all of this. She had brought a married man to climax with her hands. She had kissed him, over and over again, when Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for him at home. Hermione tried to feel guilty about that, but all she could think was that she wanted Lucius Malfoy with every ounce of her being.

She thought about Draco Malfoy, whom Hermione still disliked immensely for the way he'd treated her. _You'll be next, Mudbloods. You filthy little Mudblood._ What he'd done to Buckbeak. The way he'd been snide and cruel for years and years. All of that was because of his upbringing - because of the way Lucius had fathered him. Wasn't that so? Wasn't it true that Lucius Malfoy's parenting of Draco had contributed to Draco's unkind nature? Hermione tried to be angry about that bit, but all she could think was that Lucius was a victim himself.

Lucius. Lucius, who had kissed Hermione with gentleness she would have never expected of him. Lucius, who had held her in his arms and let her touch his bare shoulders and chest. Lucius, who had whispered against her lips, who had told her she was beautiful. Lucius Malfoy, disavowed Death Eater, who had declared that he no longer harboured negative feelings about Muggle-borns because of the Draught of Magnes.

What would happen after the antidote? Would he be disgusted at what they'd done together? Would he think himself a Blood Traitor? Would he do something to harm Hermione? She felt fear, all of a sudden. What would Lucius Malfoy do to her once they'd taken the antidote to the Draught of Magnes? Part of her didn't want to know. Part of her wanted to tell Lucius to send the antidote back. A not-insignificant part of her wanted to go back to his chambers and strip her clothes off and give him her virginity. But she knew that they both needed the truth. They both needed to know what lay beneath the surface. If that meant being enemies again, then that was what it meant.

Weary and crying, Hermione shut her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. But sleep never came, and when she heaved herself out of bed in the morning, she felt heavy and had a pounding headache. Whatever came to be, she told herself, was what would need to be. There was nothing to be done. They had to take the antidote. Knowing that couldn't erase images of Lucius from her mind, though, and Hermione dragged through her day like she was swimming in honey.

Two days later, Hermione made her way into Classroom 3C with tears boiling in her eyes. She sat down next to Ginny and folded her hands on her desk. She didn't intend on taking notes today. If Lucius demanded it of her, she would do it, but she was too upset, being here in his class, to focus today.

It seemed that Lucius was distracted, too. At one point, Gemma Carlisle from Slytherin had been finished reading her paragraph for a solid thirty seconds before someone cleared their throat to get Lucius' attention. He huffed a breath and droned for Ginny to keep reading, and he stared down at the textbook in his hands with a glassy-eyed gaze.

Towards the end of the lesson, when he had told the class to quiz a partner in preparation for an upcoming exam, Lucius neared Hermione and Ginny's desk and slid a folded parchment down onto the surface. He met Hermione's eyes for a moment and then walked away, off to the Slytherin side of the room. Hermione looked at Ginny, who raised her eyebrows curiously. Hermione unfolded the parchment and read,

_Meet me in my office before dinner._

Hermione shut her eyes and folded the parchment again. She whispered to Ginny,

"It's tonight. We're going to take the antidote tonight."

"Oh, good," Ginny gushed, and Hermione shot her a glare.

"I don't _want_ to hate him."

"You want to feel what's real, don't you?" Ginny asked. Hermione's chest stirred oddly, but she finally nodded and said,

"Yes. I want to feel what's real."

She struggled through Ancient Runes, once again too distraught to take notes. Her mind was a frenzied mess of emotion. Should she take the antidote? Should she go back to loathing her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, the married man she'd touched and kissed and whispered to in darkness? Should she feel disdain for him again? For what, Hermione asked herself? For the truth to be made manifest, for her mind to be independent and clear. That was why she would do it, why she would drop the antidote onto her tongue and let feelings of enmity come flooding back. It was why she would tell Lucius to go back to his wife, why she would be glad she hadn't had sex with him. The truth was the most important thing in all of this, and she needed to know what was real again.

After her last lesson of the day, Hermione made her way back to Classroom 3C. Her heart hammered a war tattoo in her chest, her breath hitched and caught in shallow pants in her nostrils, and her ears and cheeks were flushed hot with anxiety. Her eyes burned severely, and she felt queasy. But Hermione forced her feet - left, right, left, right - to make their way through the classroom and up the stairs leading to Lucius' office. The office door was open, but Hermione still knocked a few times before stepping inside.

"Hello." Lucius stood by the window, staring outside. Hermione noticed that his fingers were brushing up and down the curtains she'd Conjured for him, and a single tear worked its way from her eye. Hermione swept it away and said thickly,

"So you've got it. It's ready."

Lucius, still facing away from Hermione, reached into his robes and pulled something out. He held up a vial that gleamed in the twilight that was streaming through the window. The liquid in the vial was lavender and translucent, and the vial itself was ornately decorated crystal. Hermione couldn't breathe then. There it was. The truth, right there in Lucius' hand. Access to her mind's right state, held aloft by Lucius' long, thin fingers.

"I suppose we ought to just go ahead and do it," Hermione said, and Lucius slowly turned around. His pale eyes and his lips were tight, and suddenly he looked older than he'd ever appeared to Hermione. His jaw clenched, and he said,

"I should like one last kiss, if you don't mind."

Hermione bowed her head. "I don't mind."

She saw his dragon-hide boots approaching her, and then she felt his fingers beneath her chin. He slowly tipped up her face and stared down into her eyes, searching. He was studying her, she thought then, for his gaze traveled all over her hair and face and body. He was making a mental impression of this, of this moment in which they did not hate each other. He wanted to remember what it had felt like to _want_ her, to _like_ her. He bent, and he brushed his lips very gently against Hermione's. She sighed, and when he kissed her again, he deepened it. His tongue probed between Hermione's lip and tangled with hers, dragging across the roof of her mouth. He suckled her bottom lip and pulled his teeth over it, and she moaned softly. She held onto the front of his robes as if she were going to fall. Then she reached up and drew her fingers through his long, silky blond hair. She wanted to remember the feel of it. She wanted to remember the sensation of being kissed by him. Even if she'd hate him in just a few minutes, she wanted to know forever what this had been like.

"It's time," Hermione whispered, when at last Lucius dragged his mouth from hers. He shook his head and shut his eyes, pleading,

"Let's not take it. Let us simply keep on like this and -"

"You are my teacher," Hermione murmured, still stroking his hair, "and you are a married man. And we were enemies, you and I. This is all pretend."

"I find that I rather like this game of make-believe," Lucius said, his voice catching just a little. Hermione's eyes leaked another few tears, and she hummed,

"I will miss you, Lucius. Or maybe I won't. I hope I do. I hope I miss this, just a little bit."

At last, with a shaking breath coming from between his lips, Lucius took a step back and held up the crystal vial of lavender liquid. He unscrewed the vial's lid and pulled out the crystal dosing stick from inside. A single drop of the antidote fell back into the crystal vial, and Lucius said,

"One drop on the tongue, Young's Potioneers said. The effects of the Draught of Magnes should be eliminated immediately."

"Are you certain this is the real antidote?" Hermione asked. She tipped her head and demanded, "What if they've sold you something different?"

"I had Wagner Schmidt test it," Lucius assured Hermione. "I almost hoped they had sold me a placebo potion, or perhaps some very expensive purple water. But Herr Schmidt said with complete confidence that this is indeed Antidote to Draught of Magnes. He also recognised the crystal vial as having come from Pozioni Barra e Giordano in Venice, a potions shop renowned for making rare concoctions."

"So this potion will grant us the truth," Hermione nodded. "It's time to go back into our own minds, Professor Malfoy."

He looked wounded at having been addressed that way. Hermione reached out and laced her fingers through his left hand and squeezed a little.

"Thank you, Lucius," she said sincerely. "I've enjoyed this accident far more than I should have done."

"As have I," he agreed. He sighed and chewed his lip for a moment, and he confessed, "Do you know, Hermione Granger, that I had begun to lose all my sensibility for you? When you dropped the Draught of Magnes in the corridor, you kickstarted a bout of madness within me, and in this moment, I don't mind at all. I am grateful you and I… ran into one another that day. So."

"Please remember," Hermione said thickly, "that Draco is right. Astoria is right. Muggle-borns deserve respect. Narcissa is wrong. Please, even if you hate me again, just try to remember part of that, all right?"

He pursed his lips and shut his eyes tightly, and then he said in a stiff tone,

"Let us proceed and get this over with, shall we?"

With that, he dipped the crystal stick into the vial and brought it out towards Hermione. She trembled as she held out her tongue. The antidote was sickly sweet as she swallowed the drop and watched Lucius dose himself. He closed the vial and tucked it back into his robes, and he touched at his forehead as he whispered somewhat frantically,

"I do not wish to hate you, Hermione."

She started to cry in earnest then, choking a little as she mumbled, "I don't want to hate you, either."

They stood in silence for a very long moment then, each of them staring away from the other. Hermione eyed Lucius' desk, examining his chair as she waited for feelings of hatred to come rushing back over her. Lucius went to the window again, staring outside with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a very long quiet, an interminable, heavy blanket of uncertainty settling over the office.

Suddenly, Hermione felt herself back in Malfoy Manor, lying on the ground as Bellatrix carved the word _Mudblood_ into her flesh. Suddenly she was viewing Lucius Malfoy at the Battle of Hogwarts in her mind. She could hear his silvery voice at Hagrid's hut the day of Buckbeak's execution. She could see his snarl, could hear his cruel words, could sense his acceptance of wickedness.

And then she thought of how he'd told Narcissa that he didn't want to speak to her whilst she maintained views against Muggle-borns. She thought of touching his cock, of kissing him, of speaking softly to one another. She thought of his muscled flesh, of him telling her she was brilliant and beautiful. She thought of him defecting from Voldemort, of him striking a deal with Kingsley to ingratiate himself back into society.

"L-Lucius?" Hermione said softly. He turned around, and she watched his throat bob. She blinked a few times at him, and she froze as he took three slow steps towards her. He shook his head and insisted quietly,

"I feel no different."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?"

He scoffed a little and nodded. "I'm sure it's all rushed back into your consciousness - all the terrible things I've done to you. I stood here thinking about all of that, too. And then I realised something."

Hermione just gaped. Lucius let out a quivering breath and said,

"The most intelligent, prettiest witch I have ever known is standing in this office. Muggle-born. She was my enemy. But _hostis anima mea est,_ Miss Granger. I feel no hatred toward you."

"Lucius." Hermione tried to inhale and exhale properly, but it wasn't working. Suddenly her face was in his hands, and he said down to her,

"Your parents… they make people's teeth better. Their methods are rudimentary at best, but it isn't as though your dentist parents deserve death simply because they don't possess magic."

"You're still poisoned," Hermione whispered, but Lucius shook his head and said,

"No. I was poisoned by my father, by the Dark Lord. I was poisoned by Narcissa. I was poisoned by my own blood. It was the Draught of Magnes that was the antidote all along, Hermione."

Hermione stared and tried to steady herself. He bent down, his lips a hair's breadth from hers, and he murmured,

"I want to kiss you."

"Then kiss me," Hermione hummed back. Lucius crushed her mouth then, marching her back towards the wall and pressing at her shoulders. She bumped into the stone and planted her palms upon the rough rock, her hair grinding against the wall behind her. Lucius kissed her ferociously, licking and sucking and nipping and soothing. She kissed him back for all she was worth, and when at last the kiss broke, she told him,

"I don't hate you. I forgive you and I want you. Have I gone mad?"

"I think," Lucius said, smirking, "that you and I are very sane now, Hermione. And now we know. It was real all along."

"Draught of Magnes is not a love potion," Hermione whispered. "It is a peace potion. What exists between you and I… Slughorn's assignment didn't do that to us, did it?"

"No." Lucius pulled out the vial of Antidote to Draught of Magnes from his robes again and studied it. He set it down on his desk and said, "Now you know the truth."

He bent and kissed her again, and as he did, Hermione realised that he was right. Now she knew the truth. And the truth was that Lucius Malfoy no longer despised Muggle-borns. The truth was that Hermione Granger forgave Lucius for what he'd done. The truth was that he wanted her, and she wanted him. That was the truth. That was what was real. Hermione felt so dizzy her knees gave out, but Lucius swept an arm around her and held her up as he kissed her.

A shock of panic struck Hermione through as she contemplated that they were in his office. Because, after all, he was still her teacher. And he was still a married man. She yanked her face from his and shook her head frantically.

"Mrs Malfoy," she whispered, but Lucius' pale eyes flashed and he said,

"Narcissa has gone to live with her parents, owing to Draco and me having become apparent Blood Traitors. I will be writing to Narcissa, and to the Ministry, to formally request a divorce."

"This is all my fault." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. Lucius kissed her forehead and said,

"Yes. It is rather all your fault. And I thank you most sincerely, Miss Granger. My eyes are opened. I can see, thanks to you."

She leaned against his chest and breathed him in, the smell of leather and the sea filling her lungs. She cinched her fingers on the front of his robes and mumbled,

"This is what's real."

"This is the truth," Lucius affirmed, and he touched his lips to her forehead again.

**Notes: Well, well, well. As Lucius said, the Draught of Magnes was the antidote the whole time. Now for Lucius to rid himself of Narcissa, for Hermione to confess to Ginny what's real between her and Lucius, and for Luna to do a merry little "I told you so." ;)**

**Thank you as always for reading, and a massive thank-you for reviewing. I am so grateful for feedback.**

**Author's Note:**

> I would greatly appreciate your feedback.


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